Rise & Fall
by rhaellion
Summary: Post Season 8 - Sansa Stark is set to be crowned Queen in the North, following Bran's election as King. As Queen she has big plans for the North and those plans change the fate of Tyrion Lannister - a broken man following the deaths of his family and Queen.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - So this story takes place at the end of season 8 with a couple of minor changes. Please be warned some of the characters may not be their usual self at first, but I'm trying to build this on how I think they would handle the events of the last season. Enjoy!**

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**Rise & Fall**

**Chapter 1**

"All Hail Bran the Broken, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm" announced Tyrion, the other lords and ladies echoing his own voice

It was the right choice; Tyrion was certain of that as he stood awaiting his fate. He let his head hang low as the new King considered what to do with him. This was his own fault; the deaths of all those innocent people because he hadn't been able to stop Daenerys from slaughtering them.

"You have a King now. What will you do with this traitor?" asked Grey Worm, cold eyes staring at the new King

"Return Lord Tyrion to his cell. I will make my decision soon enough" said Bran, no hint of emotion in his voice

Grey Worm grabbed Tyrion's shoulder digging his fingers in hard as he led him away from the meeting and back towards the cold cell he had spent the past few weeks in. "Come" hissed Grey Worm, face tightening in displeasure "you will face justice eventually"

Tyrion didn't respond as he shuffled along, chains clinking as he moved. The meeting in the dragon pit had given him a chance to get some fresh air, but even as the sun warmed his back Tyrion found it didn't give him any pleasure. Why didn't they just execute him and be done with it? Given the way Grey Worm kept flexing his fingers he would have happily ended Tyrion's life then and there. But Grey Worm was a soldier first and foremost, and they soon arrived at the dirty, dark room that had been Tyrion's home for the past few weeks. The unsullied leader grabbed the back of Tyrion's shirt shoving him in the room.

"Get in" he ordered, slamming the door shut and extinguishing most of the light in the room.

His prison was just below ground level and a tiny piece of daylight filtered through a grate in the top right wall - for weeks it had been the only light he had seen. Slowly, Tyrion stumbled towards the pile of rags he'd been left to sleep on, immediately lying down and curling in on himself. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He'd let himself believe in Daenerys; wanted so desperately for her to be the righteous, caring ruler Westeros needed but now she was dead and he would soon follow. It was all he deserved. He had been wrong about so many things, and made terrible mistakes that had cost innocent people their lives.

Tyrion lay there, staring at nothing as the coldness of his cell quickly stole the warmth from him. What had become of Jon Snow? It wasn't long after they had talked that news spread that Daenerys was dead and Tyrion had hated himself for his part in it. Jon Snow was a good man, and Tyrion had known he would make the honourable choice with a little prompting. Was he awaiting his execution too? Tyrion wanted so desperately to change what had happened. Not long after Daenerys death Grey Worm had come to his cell and Tyrion had pleaded with him to understand, but the unsullied leader had lifted him clear off the ground and slammed him into the wall.

"Traitor!" he had roared, hands trembling as he glared at Tyrion. There were no traces of warmth or friendship in his eyes as Tyrion had tried to defend his actions.

"I'll hear no more from you" he snapped, cutting off Tyrion with a punch to his face "You will die for this"

His former friend had dropped him in a heap on the ground as he left the cell, slamming the door with finality. Tyrion's head had throbbed and the skin above his eye was split from the blow, blood trickling down his face and mixing with tears. He had thought Grey Worm was a friend, and would at least hear him out but there had been no shred of sympathy in the man's eyes. Tyrion was the enemy, and he didn't doubt the rest of Westeros felt the same.

Tyrion had cried that night, for the first time in many years. All the cruelty, the pain and humiliation he had suffered through finally caught up with him and now there was truly no-one left who cared for him. He missed Jamie. Every time he was unfortunate enough to fall asleep he relived finding the bodies of Jamie and Cersei. Tyrion had cried until he was empty and hadn't shed a tear since. The days had passed and the signs of his imprisonment had begun to show in his scruffy beard, tangled hair and the layer of dirt that coated him.

When Grey Worm had come for him today, Tyrion had said nothing. He had expected to be walking to his execution not to help decide the future of Westeros. Sansa had won independence for the North; she had looked every bit the Queen of ice at the meeting. She was so different to the scared girl trying to survive in Kings Landing all those years ago. Now she was a ruler; a player in the Game of Thrones and Tyrion hoped she would find happiness now. She deserved it after all the horrors she'd endured.

Tyrion stared at the wall in front of him. He had no desire to do anything except wait for death. It wouldn't be long now and there was no-one left to miss him anyway.

* * *

Sansa remained in Kings Landing for two days following Bran being declared King. Most of that time had been spent deciding the fate of Jon Snow. Sansa wasn't pleased, but Jon would spend the rest of his life in the nights watch. Arya hadn't been happy either, but at least Jon would be able to go North with his wildling friends and hopefully find some joy.

Now, Sansa sat waiting with the lords and ladies of Westeros as Tyrion Lannister was brought to them for sentencing. They had moved into what remained of the throne room and Brans wheelchair was placed in front of the melted Iron Throne. Sansa sat along from her brother as did Arya and representatives of the other great houses as Tyrion was led in. Her former husband was barely recognisable as he shuffled into the room. His head was a mass of tangled hair and he looked gaunt; not at all like the charming Tyrion who had tried to help her all those years ago. His chained hands hung loosely before him and he didn't bother to raise his head as Bran delivered the sentence.

"Tyrion Lannister" began Bran, voice carrying across the destroyed throne room "for your role in supporting Daenerys Targaryen you are hereby stripped of all land and titles and are banished from the six kingdoms of Westeros"

Sansa watched Tyrion closely but he gave no indication he'd heard and continued to stare at his feet. Bran was also studying the dwarf closely as he finished his ruling.

"Sansa Stark has requested custody of you, and she will decide your fate. You are to remain in your cell until you leave"

Sansa held her head high as Tyrion tilted his head to one side, looking up at her. Deciding what to do with Tyrion had been difficult. Most of the houses had wanted to execute him and be done with it. A few including Ser Davos had defended him, saying in the end he had made the right choice. Sansa knew Bran had his own ideas for Tyrion's fate, but she had asked her brother to give Tyrion to her. She nodded crisply to him, and he dropped his gaze.

"This man deserves death" cut in Grey Worm, baring his teeth.

"He deserves justice" countered King Bran "and he just got it. Tyrion will spend the rest of his life in the North"

Grey Worm looked ready to argue, but instead turned to Tyrion "I should have killed you when we met"

Sansa saw Tyrion flinch as the unsullied leader stormed past him and out the doors. He seemed to shrink in on himself, and Sansa swallowed uncomfortably. This wasn't the Tyrion she knew. It didn't matter though; Sansa had gotten what she wanted. He would come North with them and Sansa could continue to rebuild the North.

"Bring Tyrion back to his cell, I will send for him when it is time to leave" said Sansa, voice echoing through the damaged hall. Two unsullied soldiers moved either side of Tyrion and he obediently made his way out of the ruined hall.

"Are you sure about this?" muttered Arya, leaning over to her

"Of course I am. Why?"

Arya shrugged "Thought he'd be more excited to keep his head"

Sansa had thought the same, but decided not to focus on it. "I need to go North today and put things in place"

"Your crown, you mean?"

Sansa's eyes narrowed "There is a Kingdom that needs to find a leader. There is damage from the long night that needs repairing. Food and shelter must be arranged-"

"and you'll be Queen in the North making all the decisions" said Arya, rolling her eyes

Sansa took a deep breath before replying "That's not been decided"

"Yes, it has. Why do you want Tyrion?"

The other lords and ladies were making their way out of the hall now. Broken debris littered the area still and clean-up efforts would undoubtedly take a long time. Sansa shifted in her seat, glancing around to find Brans emotionless eyes fixed on her as Ser Davos spoke to him.

"Just bring him to Winterfell" Sansa answered, standing from her chair "When will you leave?"

Arya leaned back in her chair, eyes studying Sansa "Three days. Gives me time to make sure Bran will be ok without us and help out with the clean-up effort"

Sansa nodded her assent and strode down the steps as her sisters voice called to her "I hope you know what you're doing Sansa"

As Sansa's footsteps echoed across the dirt covered floor, a slither of doubt wormed its way into her mind as she recalled her conversation with Bran. Was she doing the right thing? Sansa shook her head clearing the thoughts, the North needed a ruler and she couldn't afford uncertainty.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Another short chapter, but they should get longer from here. Please bear with me, this story is quite different to what I usually write and I really want to practice.**

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**Chapter 2**

Arya's footsteps barely made a sound as she worked her way through the damaged Red Keep to find Tyrion's cell. Today she would head back to Winterfell with the 20 Northern men who had remained behind to assist with the wounded. Several of them had offered to retrieve the prisoner, but Arya was more than capable of doing it herself as her men broke camp and readied the horses. The unsullied had been given ships and had left for the island of Naath the day before, while the rest of the houses of Westeros were making their own way home. Arya's eyes grew oddly warm as she recalled her farewell with Jon three days before. She doubted she would ever see him again, but hoped he could be happy with the wildlings even if she would miss him terribly. Sansa had gone that day as well following Tyrion's sentencing, leaving Arya to make sure Bran would be ok when they left.

The Red Keep got decidedly colder the further Arya went, until she arrived at a locked wooden door with a Northern soldier guarding it. Since the unsullied had left yesterday, a young Northerner called Alec had guarded Tyrion's prison. Sansa had wanted to replace the unsullied guards with her own immediately but Grey Worm had refused and it wasn't worth the argument.

"Come for the prisoner, m'lady?" he asked nodding his head at her approach

"It's time to go home" she agreed "No attempts to escape?"

The guard wrinkled his nose in disgust "No, m'lady. I wouldn't have liked to be kept in there. Between you and me, I don't think those unsullied were feeding him proper. He's barely made a sound all day, 'cept he was mumbling last night in his sleep"

Arya shrugged at the man's words "He's a prisoner; they don't get the best treatment"

"Aye m'lady, but he's not the worst of them. Not like those unsullied. That grey worm killed men who were on their knees. Ask me, he should have been in here"

Arya nodded. She had heard from Jon what Grey Worm had done to the Lannister soldiers, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She had been there and heard the bells call for surrender, yet the dragon Queen had burnt the city anyway.

"Go and get ready to depart. I'll bring the imp" she commanded. The guard hesitated before handing her the key, taking one look at needle on her hip before leaving.

Arya stood in the draughty corridor recalling her goodbye to Bran earlier that day. She'd hugged her brother and made him promise to write, but he was so distant these days it was hard to communicate with him. The King had given her the keys for Tyrion's handcuffs "You can't unchain him until you're in the North. He can't be free until he's there"

"Sansa wants him in chains until we get to Winterfell" Arya had said with a heavy sigh "seems unfair to me. She told all my men so now I've no choice but to listen to her"

Her brother had frowned "I know. Sansa will need reminding"

"Reminding of what?"

"You'll know when you need to know"

"Were you really going to kill Tyrion before Sansa talked to you?"

"You'll have to ask Sansa"

"You're really frustrating to talk to" Arya said, mouth turning downwards into a frown

"Tyrion is a good man" said Bran, face drawing tight as he considered his words "you'll need to help him"

"Help him? You're the one who banished him"

"I did, because there is a small chance"

"A small chance of what?"

Arya's brow furrowed as she recalled the conversation. Bran would speak no more of it and only smiled when she asked. Why could no-one speak simply anymore? Bran and Sansa were as bad as each other. Her eyes moved to the wooden door before her. She'd been stood there for several minutes now and heard no signs of life inside. Surely it can't be that bad in there?

Arya turned the key and entered the room. The first thing that hit Arya was the total darkness of the room, followed quickly by the smell. The room stunk like a decaying animal. Arya said a silent thank you for her faceless man training as her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness of the prison, and she could work her way around the room.

"Tyrion?" she called, eyes landing on a small body lying on a heap of rags. Arya ground her teeth as she took in the room. Why had he been left like this? The bucket in the corner of the room for his business was near overflowing and clearly hadn't been emptied for days. Aside from that, the room was cold enough to see your breath, and Tyrion had been left only a pile of rags to sleep on.

"Lady Arya"

The dwarf was moving stiffly to his feet, and Arya crossed the distance until she was stood before him.

"We're leaving" she said, taking in the dirt and filth that covered him. He looked like death.

"As you wish" Tyrion said, voice low and scratchy

Arya led the way out of the cell and into the corridor, Tyrion shuffling behind her. He looked worse in the light, Arya thought. His dirty clothes were hanging from him and his eyes were bloodshot and red.

"Glad to be out of that cell?" she asked, slowing her steps for him to keep up

"I suppose" he said after a moment "though I had gotten used to it"

"I can't believe they left you in there like that" she said, trying hard to forget the squalor of the prison "You'll get plenty of fresh air now though - it's a long ride to Winterfell"

Tyrion said nothing but kept his head down as they headed out of the Red Keep, the sun greeting them and warming the cold from Arya. Piles of rock littered the courtyard from the battle and Arya sensed Tyrion was avoiding looking at the wreckage. The silence was rather unnerving and Bran's request to help Tyrion flitted through her mind.

"You'll have to keep the chains on until Winterfell" Arya said, grimacing as she said the words

"I understand"

Arya took a long breath "Seems stupid to me"

"I'm a prisoner" he said with a shrug

"Not when we reach Winterfell" she said, squinting in the sun as they approached the North men ready to depart "Sansa won't hurt you"

"Yes, my Lady"

Arya reached down and grasped the collar of Tyrion's dirty grey tunic turning him to look at her "Look, you're coming to Winterfell. You're not going to die"

Skeptical green eyes flickered to meet hers "and what does the Queen in the North want with me, if not my head?"

Arya pressed her lips together considering her answer "Sansa wouldn't tell me, but I assume you'll be asked to bend the knee"

Tyrion turned away from her, eyebrows furrowing as he mulled over her words. Arya had several ideas why Sansa wanted Tyrion at Winterfell, but for now that seemed the most likely. After all the places she'd been and things she'd seen, Arya was very good at reading people. It had been incredibly important to her training as a faceless man, and was now a skill she used at every opportunity. She'd watched Tyrion closely when he was sentenced, and she'd studied him now as they left the Red Keep. The vacant stare, the lack of response and general guilt that seemed to cling to him, left Arya in no doubt Tyrion was a broken man.

Whatever Sansa wanted from him, Arya hoped her sister understood this was not the same man she'd been forced to marry. Not the same man who'd celebrated their victory at the Long Night weeks before.

Arya moved to saddle her horse as one of her men led Tyrion over to another horse. He would have to ride seated with someone else for the journey to Winterfell, but he made no complaint as he was pulled onto the horse. Swinging onto her own horse, Arya led the group as they trotted from Kings Landing. It would be a long journey and she would have plenty of time to talk with Tyrion. For Sansa's sake, Arya hoped the real Tyrion was still there beneath the despondency and resignation that hung around him like a cloak.

* * *

"Hail Sansa Stark, the Queen in the North" announced Maester Wolkan placing a simple crown on her head, as the Northern houses echoed the cry.

A satisfied smirk crept across her face as the echoes died down and Lord after Lord came forward to pledge their allegiance. The journey from Kings Landing had been long but after two weeks of travel she had arrived at Winterfell. Representatives of the Northern houses had filled the Great Hall as Sansa explained what had happened in Kings Landing. No sooner had she proclaimed the North's independence and the first call went up naming her Queen in the North. Many more had followed, and the next day Sansa had been crowned. During Jon's brief reign as King in the North, Sansa had dealt with local issues while he focused on the threat beyond the wall. It wasn't Jon's fault, but the Northern houses had come to respect her as someone focused solely on the North rather than being consumed with Westeros as a whole. Gaining a peaceful independence had sealed the deal, and Sansa could now rule the North as she liked. She could build a better North

Her years in Kings Landing had been cruel, but she'd learnt a lot. She could play the game now and she was determined to take control. She was no longer a pawn, she was a Queen.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - Thanks for those still reading. Enjoy! I also don't own anything except my own story.**

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**Chapter 3**

Arya set a brisk pace as they rode, until they finally stopped to make camp for the first night. Kings Landing was behind them now, but after the horrors she'd seen as the city burnt, Arya wouldn't be happy until she was in the North. Alec who had stood guard outside Tyrion's prison, was the newly appointed head of Winterfell's household guard and stood out from the other Northerners with his shorter, light brown hair though he sported a traditional Northern beard. Every time she saw the man who was no more than thirty and two, heaviness coated Arya's limbs as she remembered Jory. Alec had the same easy smile and sense of honour her fathers trusted soldier had carried with him. The man had ridden with Tyrion sat in front of him as they left Kings Landing and Arya had heard him chatting amicably to the dwarf throughout the journey, though he didn't seem to get much response.

To get to Winterfell faster they were travelling light with only a few tents. Arya had her own, as the lone woman of the group while the men would share the rest between them. A few rabbits were killed for food, and one of the older men called Brice soon had a warm meal underway. Brice was a huge man, a dark beard of brown and grey covered most of his face and his booming voice was easy to hear across the camp. As Arya took her place around the newly built fire the men were gathered around ready to enjoy her rabbit, Brice's voice boomed out across the area.

"Get over here Lannister! You look like you need some food"

Arya's eyes soon found Tyrion hovering uncertainly at the edge of camp. While everyone else had gathered for food, he had stayed off to one side but Brice's shout had drawn attention to him. He kept his head down as he approached the group, before Brice grabbed his shoulder steering him onto a log and handing him a big piece of the rabbit.

"Thank you" said Tyrion, eyeing the Northerners warily

The meal was filled with laughter and stories and Arya observed Tyrion throughout, noticing his unnatural silence throughout the meal. When the time came for sleep, Arya was sure Tyrion would try and avoid the tents and sleep alone outside, but Alec quickly pulled him along with the other men.

"You don't want to sleep out here, could be bears" he said, slapping Tyrion on the back

"He's a lion ain't he? Reckon he could chase them off" called another man, heading towards the tent

"Who would win between a bear and a lion?" pondered another, as Arya watched Tyrion get pulled into the warmth of the tent

* * *

It was three days into their journey when they came across a stream running through the forest near their camp. Most of the men were busy preparing the camp, but Arya caught sight of two men pulling Tyrion off towards the trees. She followed with her hand resting on needle, footsteps ghosting through the forest until the group stopped at the stream.

Arya's body tightened, preparing to intervene. The men, Lyle and Cayn were brothers easily distinguished by their matching long, brown hair. Both were young soldiers, who had recently joined the household guard of Winterfell under Alec's command.

"Come here Lannister, reckon you want to get some of that dirt off" called Lyle pulling him towards the water

Arya could tell by Tyrion's wide eyed look around the area he was nervous, but she continued to watch, intrigued where this was going.

"Don't see why they can't unchain you" complained Cayn scratching his head "not like you're gonna run off"

Much to Arya and then Tyrion's surprise, the men only seemed interested in cleaning him up a bit. The handcuffs stopped Tyrion from doing much, but the Northerners were quick to help him and he looked less like a war victim when they were finished. Arya slowly moved her hand from needles hilt, slipping back towards the camp. She had thought this journey would be spent making sure no-one slit Tyrion's throat in the night, but apparently she had underestimated her men.

* * *

The days wore on and the closer they got towards the North, the wind picked up and a slight chill took the air. The horses were being readied for their journey and Cayn was preparing his horse for him and Tyrion. The men would regularly trade who had Tyrion on their horse, though Alec was the more constant companion. Today it would be Cayn, and as they prepared to depart an old, grey haired man approached Tyrion dropping a heavy grey cloak around him.

"Can't have ya freeze to death" the man said, turning quickly back to his own horse

Tyrion's mouth fell open at the gesture, before a tentative smile flittered across his face. Cayn helped Tyrion onto his horse and then launched into tales of home and family. The young man's voice was light and cheerful as they rode down the Kings Road, and Arya could see Tyrion listening intently to Cayn's stories. It was still tentative, but Arya was sure she saw the corners of Tyrion's mouth twitch upwards from time to time as he listened.

* * *

After almost a week travelling, Arya still couldn't figure it out. She cornered Alec as Tyrion shuffled around the camp, searching for kindling for the fire. After the first few days of watching at a distance, Tyrion had taken to helping around the camp. There wasn't much he could do with his hands in chains, but he would always pick up a few small pieces of wood for the fire. When he had first done it, Tyrion had quickly added his meagre contribution to the pile of wood, without making eye contact and made to retreat. Brice had clamped a hand on the dwarfs shoulder, turning him to face him.

"Thanks" he had said, offering the dwarf a smile "Sit down while I get the food on"

Now, Tyrion was dutifully going around the camp gathering his kindling while Arya led Alec to a quiet spot shaded by trees.

"Everything ok, m'lady?"

"I'm surprised" she confessed, studying the man's face "no-one seems bothered by Tyrion. Even though he's a Lannister"

The man shrugged "What's there to be bothered by? He's quiet. He doesn't complain"

"Most Northerners hate the Lannister's"

"They did. When the long night came, there were only two Lannister's that came to help. His brother Jamie fought ferociously; he earned some respect for that. Tyrion was willing to fight even though he's clearly no warrior but got sent into the crypts instead"

"So you're treating him like part of the group because he hid in the crypts?" asked Arya. She knew she was debating for the sake of it – Arya was pleased her men had accepted Tyrion. She just couldn't figure out why they had done it so easily.

"I can't speak for all my men, but he saved my wife's life in that crypt. That was reason enough for me to give him a chance" explained Alec, hands clenching at the memory

"I didn't know"

"I thanked Tyrion when we started riding back to Winterfell; he said he was glad to have been some use. I've fought in many wars m'lady. Some men are made for it, like your Father and King Robert. They can stare horror in the face and move past it. I've seen men like Tyrion; not warriors but they fight anyway and it haunts them. I don't know what he's been through, but it's clearly damaged him"

Arya nodded, eyeing the man with new respect "I had a similar thought. He's not the man he was"

"These are all good men" he said, gesturing towards the activity around the camp "Some young enough to not hate Tyrion for his family and some old enough to know there's no point. 'sides that, we went to Kings Landing with Jon Snow. It was well known in the camps the dragon Queen wanted fire and blood, while her Hand didn't. Him and Jon tried to temper her and in the end they stopped her – though it cost them both"

"The war is finally over" agreed Arya "no point holding onto old grudges anymore"

"Aye, the North is independent and Tyrion has been banished there for the rest of his life" said Alec, with a grimace "He's a Northerner now, whether he likes it or not. Besides, his whole family is dead and he looks like he needs a friend"

Arya couldn't deny the man's words were true. Whatever had happened in Tyrion's life had clearly damaged him, the slaughter of Kings Landing appeared to be the tipping point, but as Alec pointed out he was bound for the North now - and Northerners looked after their own.

* * *

The further North they rode the colder it got. Snow blanketed the ground and the air held a frost that to Arya was both familiar and a great comfort. It was still winter, but with the Night Kings defeat the ice and snow had lost its bitter edge; a light thaw had begun promising that spring would eventually come.

As had become custom, the men set up camp quickly and whatever food they'd found was soon cooking under the watchful eye of Brice, over a roaring fire that took the chill from their bones. Arya was sat along from her men, using a whetstone to sharpen needle. From where she sat, she could see the long brown hair of Lyle in the distance explaining something to Tyrion. Cayn and a couple of other men were gathered around adding their own advice. Arya hid a smile.

Since entering the North, some of the men had started to teach Tyrion more about the land and how to survive in the wild. She doubted these were the kind of skills he would have ever learnt at Casterly Rock, but he seemed to listen intently to whatever skill was being shown. So far Brice had gotten Tyrion to watch as he butchered an animal for food, he'd been shown how to set up the tents and she suspected he was now being shown different kinds of animal tracks.

"Oi, foods ready" boomed Brice, causing the men to rush over and claim their seats near the warmth of the fire

Despite the efforts of the men to include him, Tyrion still seemed wary of overstepping and shuffled slowly towards them, as if fearing they would suddenly object to his presence.

"Get on that log, Lannister" ordered Bryce as the men moved up to make space for him between Arya and Cayn "you don't take up much space"

The meal progressed with the usual banter and lively chatter, Tyrion slowly eating his share of the food beside her. They were about two days away from Winterfell now and the mood of the group had grown even more buoyant as they neared home. Tyrion sat quietly, listening to the conversation around him and Arya's brow furrowed as her gaze moved to the handcuffs clinking as he moved his hands.

"Does that not bother you?" she asked, nodding towards the chains he'd worn for weeks

He shrugged "I've gotten used to it my Lady"

"As soon as we see Sansa we'll get them off" Arya said, chest tightening. She had wanted to take them off as soon as they were in the North, but if Sansa was to be Queen her orders needed to be followed. Arya hated it, but she didn't want to disrupt Sansa's reign so early by disobeying her command – no matter how stupid it was. Though Arya had every intention of telling her sister how stupid it was.

"As you wish" Tyrion said, turning his eyes back to watch the fire

"Give the poor sod a bath too, he looks like a wildling" grumbled Brice, eyeing his companions bedraggled appearance

"I thought I was starting to look Northern" said Tyrion quietly, as the men fell silent. Arya could practically feel Tyrion curling in on himself beside her, before the men burst into laughter.

The small man let out a low sigh as the group laughed at his joke. Cayn nudged him in the ribs, gesturing towards his own beard "This is what the Northern women like. A manly beard and a glorious mane of hair"

"That's not a beard, that's fluff" cut in Lyle, leaning in to examine his brother's beard "Tyrion's got more hair than you"

"Half man, half hair" quipped Tyrion, shaking his overgrown, shaggy hair for emphasis

The men continued to laugh and tease, and Arya saw a trace of a smile cross Tyrion's face as the men tried to pull him into the conversation.

"We'll make a proper Northerner of you yet Lannister" called Brice, grinning across the fire at him

* * *

The journey to Winterfell had been far more pleasant than Arya expected, and they had earlier received word that Sansa had been crowned Queen in the North the day before. She had already been Queen in all but name; this only made it official. Sitting in the glow of the fire, with nothing but friendly jabs passing between them and the Northern moon above them Arya finally felt at home. She hoped returning to Winterfell would feel like home too, though Bran's grave face and warning that Sansa would need reminding of something continued to simmer in her mind.

The next morning they broke camp and Arya moved to where the horses were being saddled.

"Tyrion" she called "you ride with me today"

The men turned to look at her as Tyrion cast a sidelong glance at Alec. The man only smiled at him, before moving to help him on Arya's horse. Though Tyrion was small, he would have to sit behind Arya on the horse rather than in front so she could see the road. Soon they were both seated on the horse and the party moved off down the road.

The snow was deeper now as they drew closer to Winterfell, crunching softly under the steps of the horses. Her companion sat silently behind her, gripping the saddle for balance. After nearly two weeks of travel, Arya decided it was now or never to talk with Tyrion. Other than a few words when they made camp, she'd been content to observe the last Lannister. By sharing a horse he would be unable to avoid conversing with her.

"The men seem to like you" said Arya. She couldn't see his face, but could feel his body tense behind her at the question

"They've been very kind to me Lady Arya"

"Why shouldn't they?"

"I don't deserve it, my Lady"

"Why not?"

Tyrion sighed "I've done terrible things. I'm not a good man"

"We've all done terrible things"

"My actions killed a lot of people"

"I've killed a lot of people" said Arya, shrugging

"As you say, my Lady" Tyrion said, voice falling quiet

They rode in silence for a bit, before Arya tried again.

"You're not that bad Tyrion"

He snorted slightly as he replied "I fear you don't know me that well, my Lady"

"I know you were kind to Sansa in Kings Landing. I know you saved lives in the crypt" said Arya, tipping her head to glance back at him "I've traveled with you for nearly two weeks and I kind of like you. You're not like the rest of your family"

Tyrion's eyes brightened slightly but he didn't say anything and Arya started to doubt he would.

"Thank you" he mumbled, voice heavy "I don't deserve your kindness"

"Don't see why not. You're stuck in the North now. Rather than beat yourself up over the things you've done, why don't you just do better now? You've got a second chance Tyrion. We'll be at Winterfell tomorrow"

Silence lapsed between them once more, and Arya hoped he was considering her words.

* * *

Winterfell loomed ahead as Arya led the party up the Kings Road, a thick coating of snow covered the ground. It was much busier than Arya expected and as they drew closer to the gate of Winterfell, she could make out the banners of other Northern houses including Glover, Hornwood and Cerwyn. Guards from the houses lined the Kings Road including noble women and children as the party approached. Glancing to her side, Arya could see Tyrion curling into himself on the horse he now shared with Alec as the spectators pointed and murmured as they saw him. Arya's expression grew tight at the scene. What was Sansa thinking?

"Lady Arya" greeted a Stark soldier with a nod, approaching her horse "We are to take the prisoner before the Queen immediately"

Arya turned to see two guards approaching Alec's horse to pull Tyrion down.

"No, you won't. He's under my charge, I'll bring him myself" Arya ordered, locking eyes with Alec

The man nodded, gripping Tyrion to prevent him being pulled from the horse.

"I have orders, my Lady"

"Now you have new ones"

The soldier shifted awkwardly, as his men watched the scene until Alec spoke "I'm the head of the Winterfell guard. I will bring Tyrion before the Queen"

The soldiers glanced between themselves, but reluctantly backed away as Arya's party dismounted. It would do the soldiers no good to anger their new commander or the Queen's sister. Tyrion kept his head down as the men dismounted, as if to avoid the stares of the crowd. The whole courtyard was full to bursting as they moved towards the great hall. Arya glanced back at Tyrion and saw the men he'd traveled with were surrounding him as he was marched in, shielding him as best they could from the onlookers.

Heat rushed through Arya's body as she stormed towards the hall. She couldn't wait to give her sister a piece of her mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N - Thanks to those reading and reviewing! Enjoy...**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The high walls of the great hall seemed to close in on Tyrion as he moved into the centre of the area. The Northmen he traveled with had patted him on the back reassuringly as they moved to one side of the hall, letting him approach the Queen alone.

Tyrion's eyes found Sansa, sat on a newly made throne. The Stark direwolf sigil curved around the armrests and up the high back of the wooden chair, while a silver crown sat on her head. The tables had been cleared from the hall, and noble lords and ladies lined the walls. Arya Stark had approached her sister without hesitation and now stood to her right. Seeing Sansa on the throne, Tyrion felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck. The Queen in the North was dressed in a stunning gown in the colours of house Stark, and her fiery hair was worn loose in a Northern style. To Tyrion she appeared every bit the regal, Queen of ice. Sansa's face was trying hard to be neutral, but her mouth betrayed her by curving upwards into a satisfied smile as he approached.

"Your Grace" said Tyrion his voice coming out quieter than he intended. He dropped to one knee before the Queen and lowered his head. Is this what he was supposed to do?

"Tyrion Lannister" said Sansa, voice authoritative and neutral "The lords of Westeros wanted your head for your crimes. I disagreed. I believe your intentions, however misguided were honourable. You sought to remove Cersei Lannister from power and you aided us during the Long Night. Despite your mistakes and the crimes your family have committed against the North, I asked King Bran for your life. You have been stripped of your land and titles, and are banished from the six kingdoms of Westeros - but I believe your skills can serve the North"

Tyrion bit his lip as he stared at the floor. The weight of his guilt sat heavily on his shoulders, pinning him to the ground as memories of his mistakes and his family's cruelty raced through his mind. He remained kneeling, as silence reigned in the hall.

"Do you bend the knee to me as your Queen, and pledge your loyalty to the North?" asked Sansa, as a hundred eyes burned into Tyrion from all sides

Tyrion hesitated for a moment before replying "Yes, your Grace"

"Do you swear to uphold the values of the North, and follow my command?"

"I do, your Grace"

"Rise, Tyrion Lannister" called Sansa and he moved unsteadily to his feet "I hereby pardon you of both your own and your family's crimes and forgive the errors you made in supporting the dragon Queen"

Tyrion lifted his head to look at Sansa, and was surprised to find she looked rather uncomfortable as she passed judgement on him. Arya was even more difficult to read than Sansa but the narrowing of her eyes as she looked at her sister told Tyrion she wasn't happy. Sansa gave a short nod and Arya moved towards Tyrion, producing a key.

"I'm sorry about all this" she hissed in his ear as the younger Stark freed his hands from their metal prison. The chains clanked to the ground, and Tyrion grimaced as he looked at his red, raw wrists. Arya moved stiffly back to her place besides Sansa as the Queen stared at him. Tyrion thought he saw a flash of emotion cross her face, but it was quickly replaced by her neutral mask.

"In the North a man gets what he earns Tyrion Lannister" said Sansa, as he tried to ignore the lords and ladies staring at him "henceforth you will be judged on the actions you take from this day onwards and not the actions of your past"

Tyrion fiddled with his sleeves, lowering his eyes at Sansa's words. It would be nice to think he could leave his past behind, but he doubted it was true. Every time he closed his eyes a ghost of his actions was there to haunt him; remind him what he really was.

"You will go with Maester Wolkan who will examine you and ensure you're in good health. Court dismissed" called Sansa as a balding Maester with a grey beard moved towards Tyrion and led him out of the great hall. Excited chatter broke out in the hall as Sansa rose from her throne. The last thing Tyrion saw before exiting the hall was Arya whispering furiously to Sansa as the sisters made their way into a corridor.

* * *

"I can't believe you did that"

Following Tyrion's release, Sansa had pulled Arya into her private chambers so they could talk privately. Her little sister had barely been able to hold her tongue as they made the short journey through Winterfell, and as soon as Sansa shut the door Arya rounded on her.

"What did I do?" she asked watching Arya pace back and forth like a caged animal as she settled into a seat by the hearth.

"You know"

"I pardoned him for his crimes and gave him a place in the North"

"But you made sure all those lords and ladies were there to watch didn't you? You wanted to show them you had a Lannister at your mercy"

Sansa's mouth turned downwards as the image of Tyrion came to mind. He had looked like a homeless beggar with his overgrown hair and beard. Dirt had covered him and his clothes were torn to shreds, covered only by a grey cloak Sansa assumed he'd gained on the journey. She would be lying if she said a lump hadn't formed in her throat at the sight of him. She liked Tyrion, she hadn't been trying to humiliate him but the Northern lords and ladies had needed to see him humbled.

"It's done now. Maester Wolkan is checking him over and then he can rest" Sansa said waving her hand

Arya stopped her pacing and stared at Sansa "Will Tyrion be sleeping in the kennel with the rest of the dogs?"

"Arya, enough" said Sansa clenching her jaw "Why do you care anyway?"

"It was cruel - leaving him in chains. I saw where they kept him in Kings Landing and it was disgusting"

"I've made arrangements for him to have new clothes and get tidied up" Sansa said, voice falling slightly "He looked worse than I thought"

Sansa dropped her gaze from Arya, looking instead at the hearth. Her sister remained standing for a moment before sighing and dropping into the chair opposite Sansa.

"Alec and the men took a liking to him" mused Arya "they told me he's a Northerner now – so they treated him like one of their own"

Sansa's face brightened at the news "Good. He's going to help rebuild the North, the quicker people accept him the better"

Arya was studying Sansa's face in a way that made her distinctly uncomfortable as they talked, as if her sister could see the thoughts behind her words.

"I hope you're not expecting too much from him" said Arya eventually "He lost his home, his family and pretty much everything he probably cared about"

The Queen in the North bristled at her sisters words "we've all lost a lot. Besides, Tyrion will stay at Winterfell – I've had a room prepared for him"

"As you command, your Grace" said Arya, raising an eyebrow

Silence settled between them and Sansa found her gaze wandering to the hearth. The flames crackled and sparked with so much life. The North may be cold, but Sansa wanted to return the spark of life to it. She would heal the North, no matter what it took.

"I've delayed my travel plans" said Arya breaking the silence "I'm going to stay for a bit and organize my journey before I set out"

"Really?" questioned Sansa, her mouth turning upwards into a smile

Arya nodded "If it's alright with the Queen in the North?"

"Of course it is. This is your home too" said Sansa, as questions roamed through her mind "Why are you delaying though? I thought you wanted to find whatever was west of Westeros as soon as possible"

"I'm still going to answer that question. It's just... we've all been apart so long; leaving so soon after coming back together feels wrong. Besides, I can spend more time preparing for the journey"

"Well, I'm glad you're staying"

"You say that now..."

"Arya you're impossible" complained Sansa, shaking her head

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want a full examination, my Lord?" asked the Maester, tying off the bandages around Tyrion's wrists

"I'd rather not if it's all the same to you" Tyrion replied "and I'm no longer a Lord"

"It's quite alright... Tyrion, I'm not going to force you" said the Maester, eyeing him warily "though if anything is bothering you feel free to seek me out"

Tyrion nodded his thanks, as Maester Wolkan tidied away his medical supplies. The man had tended to his wrists rubbed raw from so long in handcuffs and checked his pulse, eyes and general health but Tyrion had been reluctant to disrobe before the Maester. He had never been proud of his body, but after years of war and imprisonment he was even more reluctant to be examined. In particular the scars across his back would no doubt raise questions he didn't want to answer – a souvenir from his time as a slave.

Tyrion sat on the edge of the examination table, feet swinging aimlessly as the Maester pottered about.

"Here is some essence of nightshade to help you sleep. You're quite run down but with proper rest and food your body should recover. I'd also recommend a bath, I'm sure you'll feel much more refreshed after that"

"Thank you" Tyrion mumbled, taking the vial the Maester offered him

"Is there nothing else I can do for you?" asked Wolkan, who now stood observing Tyrion as if he could see inside him

"No, thank you – you've done more than enough" said Tyrion, hopping down from the table and turning towards the door

"If you're sure" the Maester said, sighing "I'll summon a guard to show you to your room"

At that Tyrion froze, turning back to Wolkan "I'm staying here?"

"Of course. The Queen has had your room prepared for days"

"Oh"

"Did you not want to stay here?" asked the Maester gently

"It's not that...I just thought..."

"You thought you would bend the knee and then be thrown out on the streets?" the Maester supplied

Heat rose in Tyrion's face under Wolkan's not unkind gaze "I didn't think...anyone would want me to stay"

"I doubt the Queen brought you all the way here to simply bend the knee. I believe she intends for you to remain at Winterfell, helping her rebuild the North. I'm sure she'll speak to you about it once you've had some rest. Wait here, I'll get someone to show you to your room"

Tyrion swallowed hard at the Maester's words, as the old man left the room to find a guard. Surely there were better people to help Sansa than him? The Queen in the North might have pardoned him and removed his chains, but Tyrion realised he wasn't free.

Arya's words from the other day rang through his mind. A second chance to do better. Tyrion wasn't sure he would be any use to Sansa. He had thought himself wise and clever, but all his words and actions had never made a real, positive difference. He'd caused pain and misery to everyone around him and yet the Northmen he had traveled with had been nothing but kind to him. They were not the lords and ladies who had sneered down at him his whole life - who had been waiting in the halls of Winterfell to mock him. They were ordinary men who'd had no reason to show him a kindness he was certain he didn't deserve. Perhaps, he could help the North? To repay their kindness.

Tyrion vowed to do his best. He would do better this time; make sure he didn't repeat the same mistakes. Whatever Sansa asked him to do, he would pour what was left of his heart and soul into it. It would never redeem him of the terrible things he'd done, but Tyrion hoped his efforts might make a difference – no matter how small.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Everything was burning. No matter where he looked, all Tyrion could see was fire. The smoke fell heavily over him as the cries of the dying rang out. Agonised shrieks of pain impaled Tyrion's ears as he walked through the city he'd helped set fire too. He didn't want to see anymore but his feet continued to drag him forwards, like a puppet on strings he was too weak to disobey. Corpses littered the sides of the road as he walked until he saw a beacon of flame in front of him. Tyrion didn't want to approach it, but he was drawn to it all the same. As he drew closer heat buffered his face causing him to wince, but the body of Varys within the flames was unmistakable.

"Hello, old friend" called the burning Varys "I told you so"

A cold sweat made its way down Tyrion's back, despite the heat. He turned to run, but instead came face to face with another ghost blocking his path.

"Where are you going my lion?" asked Shae, reaching down and stroking his scarred cheek "I am yours, and you are mine" Tyrion recoiled from her icy touch, eyes locked on the gold necklace wrapped too tightly around her neck.

"No, please no" he muttered, tearing his eyes away from his former love. He shook his head moving backwards, denying what he was seeing. Desperately, he turned hoping to find escape but it was no use. One by one, the ghosts of his past surrounded him until he was trapped, and they were closing in. Each way he turned another of his regrets blocked his path, calling him out on his sins. His father, Varys, Shae, Cersei, MIssandei and scores more crowded around, his heart cracking at their every word.

"You're no son of mine"

"Little monster"

With no path of escape, Tyrion stood rooted to the spot as their accusations pounded into him. He wanted his brother; Jamie would help him.

"I gave my life for you" called a voice Tyrion didn't recognise. The crowd parted to let a beautiful woman with golden hair and green eyes approach him.

"Mother?" whispered Tyrion, hands shaking as he looked at the woman

"I died to give my husband a son" she repeated standing over him. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch her.

"Mother, please" he called taking a step towards her when his boot splashed into something. Looking down Tyrion saw a growing pool of blood. He didn't want to look, but his mind disobeyed him and traced the blood back to its source. His eyes grew wide as he saw his mother, blood staining her dress from the waist down, dripping steadily onto the ground between them.

"You did this" she screeched, green eyes burring like wildfire "you killed me. You're a monster"

"I'm sorry" Tyrion said voice shaking as tears flooded down his cheeks "I'm sorry…"

"You're no son of mine" the hellish vision of Joanna Lannister shouted, swiping at him with her hand. Her nails scratched into his face as he stumbled backwards, falling on his rear. The crowd once again surged towards him, closing in from all sides.

"I'm sorry" he said, repeating it over and over as he shrunk in on himself

The crowd stopped moving as a large shadow fell over the group.

"The next time you fail me, will be the last time you fail me"

Tyrion looked up to see Daenaerys gazing down at him from the back of Drogon. Her gaze was pitying but her eyes were empty – holding no life, no warmth. Drogon stared down at him, jaws snapping impatiently.

"Dracacrys" she whispered and flames engulfed Tyrion

* * *

Tyrion woke with a start, his heart pounding as he scrambled upright in the bed. Just a dream he told himself - a nightmare. His hands were shaking and Tyrion gazed around the room, trying to place where he was. The first rays of sunlight were filtering in through the window and it took him a moment to remember he was at Winterfell. Slowly the pieces came back to him. Maester Wolkan had given him something to help him sleep, and a guard had brought him to this room late yesterday afternoon where a hot bath had been waiting for him.

Leaning back against the pillows, Tyrion took a few deep breaths to calm himself. His nightmares hadn't been that bad for a while, though in truth Tyrion rarely slept long enough to experience them. He had never been a great sleeper and on the journey to Winterfell he had tried to not sleep deeply enough to experience nightmares while sharing a tent with the other men. The long time spent traveling and lack of sleep had taken its toll though and after his bath last night, he had drank the essence of nightshade and climbed into the soft bed desperate for a good sleep.

After his horrific night Tyrion didn't want to risk more nightmares so he remained awake, sitting up in the bed and forcing his mind to not dwell on the hideous images that haunted him. This one had been worse than most; the presence of his mother and her cruel words had cut him deeply. He often wondered; if his mother had lived would she have loved him? Tyrion had always clung to a hope she would, despite her death being his fault.

A short rap on the door drew Tyrion back to reality and he pulled himself from the warm bed to see who was there. His traveling clothes lay in a heap on the floor and he had put on the overly large nightshift left on the bed for him. Tyrion pulled the door open with a creak to find a large, bald man waiting in the doorway – a knife in his hand.

Tyrion's stomach twisted as he said "Can I help you?"

The man's face twisted into something that might have resembled a smile, as he raised the knife "Name's Tom – the Queen sent me to clean you up, little man"

"Oh" said Tyrion breathing out as Tom stepped into the room.

Tyrion could only assume this man was what passed as a barber in the North, for he wasted no time pushing Tyrion onto a chair and attacking his hair with the knife. There was no talk as Tom hacked off clumps of his hair, before going to work on his beard. Tyrion sat silently and let the man do as he pleased. It was clear he had orders and Tyrion was getting a haircut whether he wanted to or not.

Finally, the deed was done and Tom put his knife away much to Tyrion's relief.

"You look less wild now" said Tom, grinning at him as he pushed Tyrion's head side to side inspecting his work

"Yes, I was looking a little rough I suppose"

"The Queen will be happy"

"Thank you" he said, hoping the man would go soon

Tom cleaned up the mess of hair and paused at the door "Next time you need a trim, come find me - I like cutting things"

Tyrion offered the man a wary smile as he finally left. Still in his nightshift, he padded over to the mirror in the corner of the room examining Tom's work. He'd passed it last night on his way to bed and his stomach had turned at the sight – he'd looked like a scruffy beggar. Now his beard was trimmed close to his face and his curly hair was much shorter. Overall, he looked more like the lord he no longer was. Still, it was a relief to feel clean again and he owed Sansa his gratitude.

The question now was what did he do next? Too tired last night, Tyrion decided to examine his room more closely. It was a spacious room with a large, soft bed and small desk in one corner. A hearth burned warmly with two armchairs spaced around it and a couple of draws and pieces of furniture decorated the room. Tyrion had noticed on his trip through Winterfell it was on the second floor of the castle, not far from the family rooms and much nicer than the smaller guest rooms lower down. As prisons went, it was very nice.

Sinking into one of the armchairs, Tyrion gazed at the hearth, absently fiddling with the edges of the oversized shift. He didn't belong here. It would have been better if Bran had taken his head. Now he was the lone lion surrounded by a pack of wolves. All those lords and ladies had loved sneering at him yesterday when he bent the knee, lining the hall, eager to see a Lannister in chains. Sansa had pardoned him, and Wolkan seemed to think she had a use for him but Tyrion wasn't convinced. What had happened in Kings Landing was proof enough he was no use to anyone. The embers danced in the hearth, reminding Tyrion too much of what he'd seen; the fire and blood that haunted his every thought.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at the hearth when another knock on the door roused him from his thoughts. Once again he moved to answer it, hoping it wasn't another man with a knife. Instead he found a smiling elderly woman with dark hair standing in the doorway.

"Morning, m'lord. I'm here to get you new clothes" she said, voice low with a heavy Northern accent

"Oh" he said, shifting in the doorway "you don't need to bother – it's not worth it"

The woman stared at him a moment, before pushing past him and tugging his arm "Sure it is m'lord, unless you want to go to dinner in that shift"

"I'm not a lord anymore" he said, as the woman pulled him into the room, closing the door behind her "my name is Tyrion"

"I know who you are, been expecting you for days" she said, taking out her tools "my name's Esther. Now stand still. We can do this with the shift on or without"

"On" he said immediately, folding his arms over his chest

Esther laughed, patting his shoulder "I don't bite little lion. Relax, this won't take long. Been doing this for years and I've got a good eye"

Tyrion's shoulders slumped as he resigned himself to the fact he was getting fitted for new clothes. Why would Sansa go to all this trouble for him? Lannister pride had never made it easy to accept things from others, but losing Casterly Rock and the family gold had turned him into a homeless beggar. He hated being dependent on others – Tyrion had already felt like a burden most of his life.

* * *

As much as Arya enjoyed traveling, it had been nice to have a proper bath and warm bed last night after weeks on the road. Thoroughly refreshed she had joined her sister and Maester Wolkan for their morning meeting in a small chamber adjacent to the great hall.

"How was Tyrion when you examined him?" asked Sansa when they were settled around the table

"Physically, he was a bit run down. I wrapped his wrists and gave him something to help him sleep. As long as he gets proper food and sleep his body will heal"

"Good" said Sansa, nodding at the old man's words

Wolkan shifted in his seat "Your Grace, I fear he has a troubled mind. I saw him weeks ago after the long night and the difference I saw in him yesterday was shocking"

Arya watched her sister closely as she considered the Maester's words. "I noticed how different he was too" she added, placing her dirty boots on the table with a thump as she leaned back in her chair.

"Tyrion has had a long journey to get here, I'm sure he'll be fine after some rest" said the Queen shooting a glare at Arya.

Wolkan raised his eyebrows but didn't argue "Perhaps, your Grace. Though he did seem surprised to be staying at Winterfell"

Sansa's brow furrowed "Where did he think he was going?"

"I believe he thought he would be thrown out after bending the knee"

"Of course he won't. I'll speak to him later. I need to discuss rebuilding the North with him anyway" Sansa decided.

"Sansa are you listening?" cut in Arya, shaking her head "I don't think he's well"

"Tyrion will be fine" Sansa insisted, glaring at Arya

"I thought he was your friend"

"He is my friend, that's why I brought him here"

"Is it? You don't seem particularly concerned for your friend"

Sansa narrowed her eyes at Arya, but the younger sister didn't flinch. No matter how regal Sansa thought herself, Arya would always know how to push her buttons.

"Moving on" said Sansa, pulling her attention back to Wolkan who had watched the exchange silently "What needs doing today?"

The two of them launched into a discussion about which house wanted to speak to her and which matters were most urgent to deal with, but Arya wasn't really listening. Instead she focused on her sister, who sat as the perfect lady absorbing the information she was given. Though they had never been particularly close, Arya had been horrified to hear what Sansa had suffered through. She'd been forced to marry twice and her second marriage had been to Ramsey Bolton. It was no secret he had abused her horrendously and she'd heard what he'd done to Theon Greyjoy. Despite all she had suffered through, Sansa insisted she was fine. With her straight backed posture and prideful face it was hard to believe she'd ever been anything but the measured, controlled Queen of the North.

Arya's mind drifted to Tyrion. She knew Sansa cared for him, but she also seemed unable to accept the possibility he was different now. For now, Arya would watch them both closely. Bran's warning to help Tyrion whispered in her mind and Arya would help him if she could. Her brother had also said Sansa would need reminding of something, and Arya still had no idea what. Either way, she would be here. Even if it meant suffering through meetings like these.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - Sorry it's a bit of a short one. The story should pick up pace after this chapter though. I know Sansa and Tyrion may seem a bit weird but there is a good reason for it. Let me know what yo think!**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

After spending the day in his room a serving girl had knocked on Tyrion's door and told him he was to get dinner in the great hall, which he had now reluctantly arrived in. The room was crowded with highborn lords and ladies, and Tyrion spotted Sansa seated at the high table with Arya and the heads of the main Northern houses. She seemed engaged in a tense conversation with Lord Manderly and Lord Glover, while Arya looked completely bored twirling a fork through her fingers. Esther had worked quickly bringing him a set of new breeches and a warm northern tunic in dark blue and grey that afternoon. Standing in his new clothes, Tyrion gazed around the hall uncertainly.

"Hey, don't we know you?" called a voice not far from where he stood. Glancing around he saw the men he'd traveled to Winterfell with sat at a bench near the back of the hall along with some other guards and members of the Stark household. It was Lyle who had called to him, and the young man now waved him over.

"Nah, that can't be Tyrion" objected Lyle's brother Cayn, with a smile "He looks far too clean"

"Hello" he muttered, fidgeting on the spot. Some of the lords and ladies had noticed him and were now pointing in his direction

"You gonna sit down?" said Brice, as the large man reached out and tugged him onto the bench beside him "Come on, get some food down ya"

Alec was sat with the group as were a couple of other young men, new to the household guard of Winterfell. They glanced at Tyrion with curiosity but said nothing as he joined them. Food was spread across the tables, yet Tyrion found he had little appetite despite missing both breakfast and lunch.

"You look better now" pointed out Alec who sat opposite him, enjoying his own meal

"Yes, Queen Sansa has been very kind to me"

Next to Alec, Cayn was leaning over the table staring at Tyrion "Didn't realise you had a face under all that hair"

"A charming man called Tom took great joy in revealing it" he said, as the men laughed

"Haha, you're a proper Northerner now if Tom's hacked at ya" laughed Brice, slapping Tyrion on his back

The men bantered back and forth, as Tyrion tried to force some food down. He was somewhat relieved they had asked him to join them. The lords and ladies had looked at him as if he was prey, and Tyrion had been considering a retreat to his room.

"You spoke to the Queen yet?" asked Lyle, leaning around Brice to look at him

"No, I've not seen her Grace yet"

"What've you been doing all day? We didn't see you at lunch or breakfast" asked Cayn, and Tyrion shrunk under the attention

"I wasn't sure what to do…" he said, trailing off. It sounded pathetic, but it was true. He'd sat there all day debating whether he was allowed to leave the room or if he even wanted to.

"Don't hide in your room boy" croaked a very old man, sat the other side of Lyle. He had a good hair of white hair and weather beaten face "you're a Northman now. You're one of us"

Tyrion squirmed, dropping his gaze. Was he really one of them?

"Emory is right" agreed Lyle, smiling brightly at him

"Of course I am" replied Emory with a snort, turning his gaze back to Tyrion "I'm the kennel master here, since Farlen died"

"Pleased to meet you" said Tyrion quietly; inclining his head towards the old man "I'm Tyrion"

"Oh, I know who you are"

Tyrion's blood ran cold as the old man stared at him. A moment passed in silence before Emory barked out a laugh "Gods be good boy, I'm not going to eat you!"

"You know I've never cooked a lion before" mused Brice, eyeing Tyrion as if he were a rabbit "I like a challenge"

"We're not eating our friend" pointed out Alec, smiling reassuringly at him

"Aye, reckon there's not enough meat on him anyway" agreed Brice, swigging his ale

They continued to eat and Tyrion listened as the men bantered around him. None of these men seemed to bear him any ill will despite being a Lannister, and it confused him. When he was here with Daenerys no-one had even tried to hide their contempt for him and Jamie.

"Oi, Tyrion" called Cayn, leaning over the table and poking him

"Sorry" he said, heat creeping up his neck at he realised he'd missed the question. All of the men were watching him as Cayn spoke.

"You should come the practice yard"

"I don't really have any skill with arms, I'm afraid"

"You can still hang out" insisted Cayn "Come watch me beat Lyle sometime"

"You wish you could beat me" shot back his brother

Alec leaned across the table speaking lowly, as the brothers bickered "You don't have to be lonely Tyrion. We're your friends; you're always welcome to join us"

"Thank you" he said, a lump forming in his throat

"And if you don't, I'll drag you out of your room myself" added Brice with a grin

The conversation died off suddenly at the sound of footsteps approaching, and Tyrion turned to see Sansa approaching them. She held her head high as she moved gracefully across the room, her long grey dress decorated by the Stark direwolf.

"Your Grace" they chorused, bowing their heads

The Queen nodded her head at their respect, her icy blue eyes locking onto Tyrion. "If you've finished eating, I hoped you might join me Tyrion"

Tyrion's stomach fluttered under her gaze "Of course, your Grace"

Pushing up from the bench, Tyrion felt everyone's gaze following him as he left the hall with Sansa. Alec and the others gave him encouraging smiles, but he was still nervous. All day he'd wondered what Sansa wanted with him and now he would find out.

* * *

Entering her chambers, Sansa gestured Tyrion to one of the chairs by the hearth before seating herself in the one opposite. After not seeing him at breakfast or lunch she'd sent a servant to bring him to dinner. Sansa had struggled to hide her satisfaction when he'd entered the hall. The new clothes fit him well and with his hair and beard cut, he looked much more lordly. Nothing like the vagrant he'd appeared as yesterday. Sitting at the high table listening to the endless chatter of the lords and ladies, Sansa had watched Tyrion standing awkwardly at one side of the hall before joining the servants and guards at their table. He didn't belong down there; Sansa had been a bit disappointed he didn't join them at the high table. The walk to her chambers had been silent, and her former husband now sat stiffly in the chair opposite.

"Would you like some wine?" she asked, after a few moments of silence gesturing to the jug on the table between them

"No thank you, your Grace"

Sansa's eyes widened "Are you sure?"

"I'm quite sure, thank you your Grace"

"Ok" she said, accepting his unusual response "do you know why I wanted to see you?"

"Not really, your Grace"

Straightening her back, Sansa leaned forwards in her seat "I'm Queen of the North now and the North needs a lot of work to get back on its feet"

"You will rule it well, your Grace"

"I hope to, but to do that I need people with experience to help me" she said watching him closely

Tyrion fiddled with the sleeves of his new tunic, before raising his eyes to hers "A wise plan, your Grace"

"I want you to help me"

Tyrion flinched at her words "I am yours to command, your Grace. Though I'm sure there are people better suited than me"

"There isn't, and I want you to help me" she said in a tone that brokered no argument

"As you wish" he agreed "How may I be of service?"

"There is a lot of work to do. The border between the North and the six kingdoms must be negotiated, there are Northern seats to fill, trade deals with houses outside the North. There is no shortage of things I need help with, Tyrion" explained Sansa, heaviness settling in her chest at the thought of the task ahead of her "Will you help me?"

He offered her a smile though it didn't reach his eyes "Of course, your Grace. I'll do whatever I can to assist"

"Good" she said, pouring herself a glass of wine and settling back in the chair "I trust you're finding your accommodation suitable?"

"Certainly, your Grace. You've been very kind to me"

"You belong to the North now" Sansa said, watching his head drop slightly at her words "and you will help me rebuild it"

"I will do my best, your Grace" he said quietly

Sansa was starting to feel uncomfortable. He had never been this quiet before and was just agreeing with whatever she said. This wasn't the lively Tyrion who loved to debate and plan. Arya and Maester Wolkan had both mentioned he was different. Was this what they meant? Sansa dismissed the thought. She was certain when he got into the work, he would snap out of whatever mood he was in.

"You will remain at Winterfell to assist me" she said "feel free to make use of the castle. Esther will provide you with more clothes and servants will be available to assist you"

Tyrion shook his head "You're too kind, your Grace. I don't deserve it"

Sansa laughed lightly at his words, appraising her former husband "I can't have you going around in rags. Your hair looks much better too"

"Ah, yes. I believe your barber enjoyed his work" said Tyrion, a glint of humor in his eyes as ran a hand through his hair

"Do your wrists hurt?" she asked as her eyes fell on the bandages around his wrists. Sansa couldn't deny the guilt that settled over her at the sight.

"No, they're quite alright. Maester Wolkan fixed them yesterday"

The two lapsed into silence and Sansa could tell Tyrion was uncomfortable. She didn't know why – they'd spent time together before. Then there was the wine, which he hadn't touched or even looked at since entering the room. Whenever she'd seen him in the past, his wine cup was a near permanent fixture in his hand. Perhaps he was still tired?

"I suppose I should retire for the night then, unless you have anything to discuss?" said Sansa eventually. She'd expected this meeting to be more relaxed, but Tyrion seemed desperate to leave and Sansa decided it was best to let him.

"No your Grace. I will leave you to rest" he said hopping up from his chair

"I will send you some work in the morning and we will take it from there" said Sansa, her mouth turning downwards. Why was he being so formal?

"As you wish" he said, bowing his head as he turned to leave

"Tyrion" she called, causing him to stop "I may be your Queen now, but we're still friends are we not?"

He turned to look at her a soft smile on his face, though his eyes didn't seem convinced "Of course"

Sansa nodded at his response "Good night, Tyrion"

"Good night, your Grace"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N - I still own nothing. This chapter is extra long because it covers quite a bit of time. Enjoy and try not to hate me (there's still reasons for everything)**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

The day after his meeting with Sansa saw a pile of work arrive at Tyrion's door, carried in by a cheerful young servant girl called Nessa.

"From the Queen, my lord" she said, reaching up and placing them on his desk

"You can call me Tyrion, I'm no lord" he said, watching the girl who was no more than nine remove a package from the top of the pile

"These were sent for you too"

The package contained more new clothes from Esther and Tyrion put them aside as he moved to the desk.

"Thank you for your help" he said to the young girl. She had a mop of dark hair and Tyrion was surprised her skinny arms had been able to carry the heavy load.

"I'm your new servant" she said, beaming at him

He frowned "Are you not a little young to be working?"

The girl shook her head, words rushing out "My father died in the war and my mother is too weak to work and I have a baby brother at home too. We had no money and food, but Lady Arya promised Winterfell would look after us. Father always said you should work for what you get so I begged her to let me do something in return and she sent me to you"

Tyrion looked at the girl before him. She was clearly eager but seemed nervous he would reject her help. Heaviness settled in his chest at her story. Was she another victim of his mistakes?

He offered her a small smile "Well, it seems I have rather a lot of work to do"

"What do you need me to do first?" she said, determination etched across her face

He laughed slightly, settling into his seat "I need nothing now. Go and enjoy yourself"

She frowned slightly "But I'm to serve you"

"Yes, but I won't need serving every minute of the day. Come back after lunch if you like. Perhaps I'll have something else for you to do by then"

The girl nodded accepting his words, before running to the door "Ok, bye Tyrion!"

Nessa was certainly eager, but didn't seem to be entirely sure what a servant did. Tyrion hadn't wanted anyone to serve him in truth, but even he couldn't reject the poor child. Besides, her keenness to please had reminded him of his former squire. He missed Podrick a lot; the boy had always been a kind and loyal friend. Moving his attention to his work, Tyrion glanced at the pile in front of him, rubbing his neck. Sansa had trusted him with a lot, and his stomach rolled at the thought. What if he messed it up? He wasn't as clever as he'd once thought himself.

* * *

Sansa sat in her council chamber just off the great hall, listening as Lord Wyman Manderly and Lord Robett Glover offered their advice on dealing with the border issue.

"I'd say the border should start from here…" said Lord Manderly, pointing at the map

"No, here is a much better location" argued Lord Glover

Lady Eddara Talhart sat observing the older men with a bored expression that Sansa feared mirrored her own. Representatives of the great houses of the North were gathered around the long table, where Sansa had taken to holding meetings. She'd invited the lords and ladies of these houses to remain at Winterfell for a time as she worked to get the North moving again. The council included a couple of new, young lords. Lord Cley Cerywn and Lord Robin Flint had both become the heads of their respective houses following the war and were of a similar age to herself. Lord Glover had also taken to bringing his son Gawen with him to meetings.

The three young men seemed to have little understanding of any of the issues they discussed but were quick to agree with whatever she suggested. Sansa was no fool. She was Queen of the North, and these men hoped to woo her.

"What do you think, your Grace?" questioned Lady Talhart, drawing her back to the maps she hadn't been paying attention too. The older woman appeared to have grown bored of the discussion and sought a quick end to it.

"I will consider all you have said and review it. What matter is next?" she said, schooling her expression into a neutral look

"There is the issue of empty seats to fill" said Lord Glover

"Supplies are still very low following the war"

"Repairs need to be made across the North"

"Trade deals should be made…"

On and on they went, and Sansa held her head high throughout it all. She would not show nerves now. They may be helping her, but just like Kings Landing they all wanted their own taste of power. They made her Queen but that did not secure the throne.

_'Keep your enemies close'_ echoed through her mind.

* * *

The days wore on and Tyrion continued to work late in the night until he was exhausted. The less he slept the less he dreamed, and the work kept his mind from wandering through dark memories. Nessa had woken him on more than one occasion, urging him to bed after finding him slumped over his desk.

"Why don't you leave the room Tyrion?" she had asked, wide eyes gazing at him as she helped him move some books spread over the bed

"There's too much work that needs doing"

"You don't go to dinner either" she said, twisting her scraggy hair

He had whispered to her conspiratorially "I'm only small Nessa, I don't need much food"

* * *

"Larence Snow" called Queen Sansa, sat atop her throne in the great hall

The man kneeling before her was middle aged and the bastard born son of the late Lord Hornwood.

"Your family have all been victims of this war, and with their deaths the Hornwood name threatens to go extinct. Therefore, I Sansa Stark, Queen of the North hereby legitimise you and name you Lord Larence Hornwood from this day forwards"

The man stood from his kneeling position, bowing his head in gratitude. "I am in your debt, your Grace. I will ensure the Hornwood name is carried on with honour and hold the lands in your name"

In Tyrion's debt, Sansa thought. As she had expected, Tyrion had excelled at the work and in response to the list of seats to be filled he had sent a reply suggesting she legitimise Larence Snow. The other lords and ladies had been keen to give the land and seat to one of their own, and were more than a little disgruntled that it was being given to a bastard, but Tyrion's suggestion ensured the new Lord Hornwood would be indebted to her and another great family wouldn't go extinct.

Sansa hadn't seen Tyrion since their chat a week ago, but whatever work she sent him was completed quickly and with a keen understanding of the North. It had eased the burden on her considerably, and allowed her to focus on other issues including the many petitioners that came to her in court.

"What's the next issue?" she asked Maester Wolkan, who stood to one side of the throne - a list of petitioners and issues for that court session in hand.

"There are many petitioners, your Grace. Representatives of some lesser houses have requested your time to discuss food shortages. There is the issue of the wildlings who chose not to return to North of the wall. There are also many petitions from small folk requesting help with local issues and petty crime"

Sansa's head pounded violently as she sat in her throne, but her face never changed "Send in the lords and ladies, I'll speak to them today. The small folk will have to return another time; I have to focus on the big issues at the moment"

* * *

Arya didn't bother knocking as she flung open Tyrion's door, causing the smaller man to jump in surprise.

"Lady Arya" he said, head jerking back in surprise

As expected he was hunched over his desk which was piled high with papers. His eyes were red and tired while his clothes seemed to hang off him.

"You've not left this room for over a week"

His forehead wrinkled as he answered "it's been a week?"

"Over a week"

"Oh"

"You didn't realise"

Tyrion dropped the paper he'd been reading, leaning back in the chair "Nessa has mentioned it at some point, I believe"

"She's worried about you" said Arya simply; approaching the desk "How much work has Sansa given you?"

"Well, there is a lot to do…"

"You're not her slave" said Arya, noting him flinch at the use of the word "There are plenty of lords and ladies lazing about all day that could help her. Come on, you're going to spend some time with people rather than books"

"It's ok, really…" he protested as she grabbed his wrist pulling him from the seat and into the corridor

"I didn't say you had a choice Tyrion"

Of all the starks Tyrion had met it was Arya who most closely resembled the direwolf - the young lady was truly fearsome. Arya dragged him through Winterfell and down to the practice yard where she was training with Alec and some of the other household guards. After so long inside, the cold breeze was almost welcome.

"From now on, you're forbidden from staying in your room all day" started Arya, eyes burning into him as the snow crunched beneath their feet "As a minimum, you must attend dinner and spend at least an hour outside. I don't care what you do when you're out here"

"Yes, my Lady" said Tyrion, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced around the practice yard

Arya's eyes had softened as she led him over to the men "You're not a prisoner Tyrion. Relax a little"

"I don't want to let your sister down" he muttered as Alec waved them over.

He'd failed his last Queen, he wouldn't fail this one.

* * *

"You seem tired, your Grace" said Robin Flint as they ate dinner at the high table with the rest of the heads of houses

"It has been a rather busy time" she said, watching the young lord closely. He had close cropped brown hair and an angular face. Tall and lean, he was rather handsome to look at, and the Sansa Stark who went to Kings Landing years ago would have surely fancied him. Now she found herself wary - not just of Lord Robin but all men.

"Perhaps you would like to take a stroll with me some time? Even a Queen should take some time to herself"

"Another time, perhaps" she said politely, noting the annoyance that twisted his face for a moment before his serene smile returned

"Certainly, your Grace. I'm riding out with Gawan Glover in the morning. He's got some business near Deepwood Motte and asked me to join him, if it's alright with you?"

"Of course. I wish you safe travel"

She doubted their contributions would be missed in her meetings, but she was well aware they wanted to win her affection. Robin Flint now ruled Widow's Watch following his family's death and Gawan Glover was the heir to Deepwood Motte. Her eyes moved to Gawan, sat further along the table next to his father. He had a full head of dark hair and the beginnings of a scraggy beard. He wasn't as polished as Robin Flint, and made little effort to hide his boredom during meetings. In theory either would make a suitable husband, and their families were well respected in the North.

_'Tears aren't a woman's only weapon. The best one is between your legs'_ whispered through her mind. She knew an alliance would need to be made. No-one had mentioned it yet, but it was only a matter of time.

"Oh look" laughed Gawan Glover, pointing to the entrance "the Queen's pet lion came to dinner"

A chorus of laughs rang out from the high table, and Sansa clenched her jaw as she watched Tyrion walk uncertainly into the hall, darting quickly towards the servants table. Lady Tallhart tutted in distaste as the young men laughed, while the older lords chuckled to themselves at the joke. Now that she thought about it, Sansa hadn't seen Tyrion at all since their talk over a week ago.

"Shut your mouth Glover" growled Arya, from her end of the table. It was no secret to Sansa that her sister hated having dinner with them and would much rather join Tyrion with the servants.

"Arya, enough" called Sansa, her little sister's eyes flickering to hers; anger burning in them.

Robin Flint lounged back beside Sansa "There's a rumour he was caught by slavers across the narrow sea, you know. Bought and sold"

"How much would a dwarf be worth?" snorted Gawan

Ice crawled up Sansa's spine as they spoke. That couldn't be true, could it? Looking across the hall at Tyrion, Sansa decided it must just be rumours. She couldn't imagine charming, clever Tyrion being sold like livestock.

"Oh, leave him alone" said Lady Tallhart, sipping her wine "He's not bothering anyone"

"Yes" agreed Lord Manderly "the work he's done to aid the Queen has been very promising"

"I feel sorry for him, he lost all his family too" added the young Lord Cerwyn, glancing across at Tyrion

Of her potential suitors, it was Cley Cerwyn she had the most sympathy with. His family had all been flayed by Ramsay Bolton, and the young Cerwyn had ended up as lord. He was a portly man with stringy brown hair but he was a gentle presence and Sansa thought him to be kind, but he was far too weak for her to consider marrying. Thankfully he hadn't made any real attempts to gain her affection, but he listened attentively during meetings, even though he contributed little.

The dinner wore on and Sansa felt her sisters glare throughout. What did Arya expect from her? She needed these lords to keep the peace in the North, and it was better not to anger them. Did it really matter if they poked fun at Tyrion?

* * *

Tyrion had returned to the practice yard every day since Arya had dragged him from his room. Guilt settled over him every time. He should be working - he hadn't been brought to the North to enjoy himself. Nevertheless, Arya had been very clear with him so he dutifully climbed onto a stack of crates joining Cayn and Brice watching the current match. More of the men had introduced themselves over the past few days and none seemed to object to his presence aside from a few curious looks. Now Tyrion sat watching Lyle face off with a grizzled old soldier. The younger man darted about striking out with his practice sword, but the old man had the experience and blocked the flurry of attacks with ease. Clangs rang across the yard as the men fought.

"Lyle's quick, but Errol's really strong" whispered Cayn pointing towards the older man

"Your brother is very good" said Tyrion, eyes following the fight

Finally, Errol flung his sword high blocking an attack aimed at his head, before barging into Lyle with his shoulder, knocking the younger man to the ground.

"You're dead" stated Errol, pointing his sword at his throat

"Agreed" conceded Lyle, climbing to his feet and knocking the snow from his clothes. The men shook hands and Errol went off his own way.

"Good match" called Alec, acting as the Master of Arms. Since Ser Rodrik's death, no-one else had been found for the job and Alec now filled that role as well as captain of the Winterfell guard.

For reasons unknown to Tyrion both Lyle and Cayn seemed to like him, and the young men would regularly pull him along with whatever they were doing.

"I lost again" complained Lyle, slumping dramatically to the ground as he joined them

"But, you've gotten better" called Alec, also heading in their direction

"Hey, Tyrion" called Lyle "Did you used to do this at Casterly Rock?"

He shook his head "No, my father forbid me to practice with weapons lest I further embarrass the family name"

"Did you want to though?" asked Cayn, eager to hear more

"I did" he said, shifting uncomfortably "As a boy I had wanted to be a knight, but it just wasn't possible. I would often watch Jamie practice when he was at Casterly Rock though"

"Your father was a right bastard" growled Brice "If you'd been born up here, you'd have had a sword in your hand as soon as you could walk - dwarf or not"

"If I'd been born up here, I would have got lost under the snow"

Lyle and Cayn however, seemed unable to fathom not using a sword as a boy and gazed at Tyrion with wonder.

"What did you do all the time, if you couldn't train?"

"Mostly I would read and stay out of the way" said Tyrion, squirming under the scrutiny

"You can use a sword now" suggested Alec, to a chorus of nods

Tyrion swallowed hard "Didn't realise you were all so eager to hit me"

Alec moved forwards, grabbing Tyrion's shoulder "I'm not saying fight with us, but there's plenty of practice dummies here. If you want to grab a weapon and take out some frustration on a dummy, go ahead. No-one will laugh at you here"

* * *

It was three weeks into Sansa's reign when the matter of succession was brought up. Robin Flint and Gawan Glover had returned a few days ago and rejoined the council meetings.

"The North needs assurances that should something befall you, there is an heir" said Lord Manderly, broaching the subject gently

"You've been very unfortunate in your previous husbands, but there are many young, strong Northmen for you to choose from" continued Lord Glover, glancing towards his son

Lady Tallhart spoke from her seat across the table "Young and strong is all well and good, but whoever Queen Sansa marries should be capable of sharing the burden of ruling with her"

"You're all correct" conceded Sansa, "the North needs heirs, and another strong leader"

"Would your future husband be King?" asked Lord Manderly

"No" said Sansa, having already considered it "whoever I marry will rule Winterfell as lord. If the people of the North are impressed with him and wish to name him King they may do so, but I will not force a King on them"

"A wise choice" agreed Lady Tallhart, smiling in approval. Of the lords who comprised Sansa's council, she found Lady Tallhart was the easiest to deal with. The older woman often made the most sensible suggestions.

"Who will you marry then?" asked Lord Glover, leaning forwards in his chair. The man was a necessary, dependable ally but he of course wanted her to marry Gawan - though he had yet to say it outright.

"I haven't decided" Sansa answered, a chill creeping down her neck. She knew she couldn't put it off forever, and a husband would help stabilize the North.

"May I suggest you do not wait too long, your Grace? Ruling is a great burden for one alone and heirs would cement your rule" replied Lord Manderly to a chorus of nods

"Yes, ideally you would marry before we return to our own seats" added Lord Glover "I believe we would all feel much better knowing Winterfell was in good hands and you would have counsel without us"

Throughout the meeting, both Robin Flint and Gawan Glover had been watching her, knowing they were two of the most likely candidates along with Cley Cerwyn. A cold sweat trickled down Sansa's back. Marriage and heirs would mean she would have to be bed again, possibly many times to have as many children as she wanted. Would these men be like Ramsay? Would she be powerless?

_'A Queen bows to no-one'_ she thought, hardening her gaze _'Do what you must to defend your family'_

* * *

His arms trembled with the effort, but Tyrion continued to hack at the wooden dummy, the short sword in his hands feeling heavier with every blow. It had been several days since Alec suggested he practice using a sword and Tyrion had been reluctant to try, but after a particularly horrible nightmare earlier on he'd decided to give it a chance. At worst he would be mocked, and he'd suffered that his entire life. Thankfully Alec had herded the ever enthusiastic Lyle and Cayn over to do their own training and only Brice had remained watching in silence as he attacked the dummy, which was hidden under a wooden shelter with the rest of the training equipment.

Heat rose up his neck as he recalled Nessa waking him from the nightmare, her face pinched in concern as she shook him. He'd woken early that morning and gotten straight into the work Sansa had sent him, working late into the afternoon. At some point he had fallen asleep at his desk and an all too familiar dream took over.

_Tyrion couldn't breathe. He was trapped under water, an invisible force pinning him down as he fought for air; for life. He focused on the surface above him. If he could reach it, he would live. The light of the surface soon vanished though, replaced by the disapproving face of Tywin Lannister staring down at him. "The day you were born, I wanted to carry you into the sea and let the waves wash you away" his Father said. Tyrion struggled and struggled, pleading to be free from his watery prison. He was losing strength now as his father's voice called down to him "You who killed your own mother to come into the world, want my help? You're no son of mine"_

Tywin Lannister's words echoed through his mind as he struck the wooden target with all his might - the blunt sword thumping into the wood and sending a shudder up Tyrion's arms. Ever since his father had told him how close he'd come to killing him the day he was born, he'd had nightmares of being drowned. Why would a father ever tell his son that - even if it was true? Finally, Tyrion let the sword drop from his grasp, sweat trickling down his face despite the cold Northern air.

"You know how to swing a sword, Lannister" commented Brice, having watched him in silence

"Jamie showed me a couple of times before Father made us stop. I've mostly watched others swinging swords" said Tyrion, steadying his breathing.

"Reading's all well and good, and drinking, whoring, whatever you choose, but sometimes you need something physical. Just you and a weapon. Clears your head and all that" mused Brice, breathing deeply in the cool evening air

"That was rather enjoyable" admitted Tyrion returning the short sword to the weapons rack. As Alec promised, no-one had laughed or mocked him.

"You've been in battles haven't you?"

"I have. With poor results" said Tyrion gesturing to the scar that split his face

"Your father never let you train in fighting, but let you go into battle?"

"Having me die in battle would have solved many problems for him. If he'd been successful it would have spared him a bolt through the heart while he was having a shit"

"You survived, he didn't" snorted Brice, following Tyrion back towards the castle. The other men had long left, but Tyrion had hardly noticed as he swung into the practice dummy.

"I made sure he didn't"

"Tyrion, I always wondered" started Brice, looking seriously at him "did your father really shit gold?"

A grim smile crossed Tyrion's face "No, but he managed to spew shit from both ends – an impressive trick really"

* * *

It had been five weeks since their return to Winterfell and Arya once more found herself outside Tyrion's room. This time she decided to knock as she barged in.

"Lady Arya" greeted Tyrion "I was on my way down to dinner"

Since their chat a few weeks ago Tyrion had followed her orders. He came to dinner each night sitting with the servants and guards, and Alec informed her he came to the practice yard each afternoon. Somehow they had convinced him to join in and if the men were to be believed Tyrion now regularly beat up a practice dummy with a sword. Despite the fact he now left the room, Arya still suspected it was to follow orders rather than for any enjoyment. The little Lannister looked constantly exhausted and his practice with the sword had left him even leaner than before.

"Don't worry, I know you've been taking my advice" she said, eyeing the massive pile of books and papers spread across his desk "Figured I'd warn you that Sansa wants you to sit with us tonight"

"Oh" he said, fidgeting on the spot "If that is her wish"

"I'm sure you'll find it as exciting as I do" said Arya rolling her eyes

"I doubt the other lords will welcome my presence" said Tyrion, seeming reluctant to go

"Well, I'd rather eat with you than them. Maybe that's why Sansa wants you there – to shield her from their stupidity"

Together they headed towards the hall, and Tyrion shuffled along beside her as if he were going to his execution. They passed the servants table and Tyrion nodded towards his friends as they moved past them and towards the head table. Arya didn't care what any of the lords thought of her and flung herself into her seat as loudly as possible, Tyrion quietly sliding into the seat between her and Cley Cerwyn.

"Your Grace" he said, nodding towards Sansa

"Tyrion, I'm glad you could join us" the Queen answered smiling in his direction

Considering how insistent Sansa had been earlier on that Tyrion join them, her older sister barely spared him a glance as she continued conversing with Lord Glover about trade deals.

Arya truly hated eating with these people and made a point of sitting as far from the Glovers, Lord Manderly and Robin Flint as possible, seating herself near Lady Tallhart and the new Lord Cerwyn. Both seemed as bored of these tactical talks as she was, and the power grabbing going on at the other end of the table was nauseating

"How are you adjusting to the North, Tyrion?" asked Lady Tallhart, the older woman smiling across at him

"Quite well, my Lady. Everyone has been much more forgiving than I deserve" he replied, picking at his food

"Nonsense" dismissed Lady Talhart "You made mistakes, but who doesn't during a war? No-one can fault you for wanting someone other than your sister on the throne"

Tyrion hesitated before nodding "You're too kind my Lady"

"Tyrion, might I ask your opinion on something?" asked Lord Cerwyn, turning towards the dwarf before launching into a long winded explanation of some issues he was experiencing with the running of his own castle. Arya didn't mind Cley Cerwyn. He was boring and shy but seemed a decent enough man, and was always polite.

Unlike Robin Flint and Gawan Glover, thought Arya. Her eyes narrowed in distaste at the young lords shamelessly trying to win Sansa's heart. She didn't like either of her sister's potential suitors, but Sansa had told Arya earlier on she would need a marriage alliance to secure the North.

"I have a duty Arya. Since you don't want it and Bran is King, there needs to be a new Lord of Winterfell. I can't be Queen and deal with the small issues as Lady of Winterfell as well" her sister had explained, in that patronising tone that annoyed Arya to no end.

Arya had some sympathy with her sister's dilemma. The North was bigger than the other kingdoms combined and ruling it was surely a monumental task, but the more time Arya spent watching her sister the more convinced she was that Sansa was pretending to be someone she wasn't. Over the past few weeks Arya had witnessed her sister's increasingly changed behaviour. She'd become short tempered with the servants, acting as if they were beneath her. There'd been a particularly embarrassing episode where she'd forgotten Alec's name despite him being captain of the guard. Sansa hadn't defended Tyrion once when the nobles made jokes about him, as if she was afraid of offending them. Even in court, Sansa prioritised the highborns who came before her, often turning away the small folk as she was too busy.

Arya tipped her head to one side, considering her sister. Perhaps she was being unfair; ruling was a burden after all. As much as Arya loved her parents they'd raised the boys to rule and the girls to obey. Both of them had learnt the hard way how to stand alone, and Sansa was now shouldering the huge burden of ruling without any of the education their brothers had received.

Could she fault her sister's behaviour when she knew she was doing her best?

* * *

Tyrion squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Since Sansa had invited him to the high table for dinner two weeks ago, he'd been told to eat there each evening. At first, Tyrion had been largely ignored and would mostly converse with Lady Tallhart or Cley Cerwyn who was eager for advice on ruling his own land. Gradually, Sansa had pulled him into her conversations with the other lords, asking his opinion on a matter or to give advice. Lord Manderly didn't seem to mind his input, and he could tell Lord Robett Glover tolerated him at best, but the two young lords; Robin Flint and Gawan Glover would often mock him. Lord Flint was much more subtle, but his sneering glances told Tyrion all he needed to know. Gawan Glover on the other hand, reminded Tyrion of Joffrey; petulant, over indulged and childish. Arya seemed to hate eating at the high table as much as he did and would glare daggers at the young lords if they mocked him. Tyrion had to admit; he'd much rather be sitting with the servants and guards. Alec and the other men seemed to understand why he'd stopped sitting with them though and were still pleased to see him at the training yard.

For the past week, Sansa had insisted Tyrion join her at council meetings each morning as well, and they were quickly becoming the worst part of his day. Every instinct told him he didn't belong here, but he dutifully attended each meeting and Sansa now continuously sought his opinion much to the frustration of her potential suitors. The Queen would ask him to brief the council on whatever work he'd been completing and sought his advice as often as she did the Northern lords advice. Tyrion sat now with the usual assortment of lords and Lady Tallhart, awaiting the arrival of Queen Sansa.

"Oi, Lannister" called Gawan Glover across the table "Where's your collar?"

"Excuse me?" said Tyrion, gripping the edge of the table

"Your collar. Does the Queen not take her pet lion out for a walk?"

Tyrion's cheeks burned as he looked down at his hands.

"Your Lord asked you a question" added Robin Flint loudly, lounging back in his seat. All conversation ceased at his words.

"No, she does not" mumbled Tyrion hoping they would move on

"Not a very caring Master, is she?" taunted Gawan, laughing as Tyrion sunk lower in his seat. Why were they saying this? They couldn't know about what happened in Essos, could they?

"I think that's quite enough" said Lady Tallhart, her expression tightening as she gazed at the young men

"Just making sure the little lion knows his place my lady" said Lord Robin Flint, eyes watching Tyrion with amusement

"Queen Sansa invited Tyrion here. You should show him some respect" continued Lady Tallhart, looking meaningfully at the two older lords who'd remained silent throughout

"Ah, yes" said Lord Glover, his cheeks turning pink at the rebuke "quite enough of that"

Gawan Glover flashed a huge grin at Tyrion "You know I'm only messing with you Tyrion"

"Of course" he said, smiling weakly

"Just a bit of banter, my Lady" reassured Lord Flint "we would never offend the Queen's most trusted advisor"

Cley Cerwyn shrugged helplessly at Tyrion while Lady Tallhart sighed, turning her attention from the young lords.

Tyrion's throat grew thick as he fiddled with his sleeves. No matter what he did, or how quiet he was people would always mock him. He'd spent his whole life pretending it didn't bother him - but it did. How could it not?

Finally the door creaked open and Sansa entered the room followed by Maester Wolkan, causing all the lords to jump to attention.

"Your Grace" they chorused

"Apologies for the delay, the court session ran on longer than anticipated"

As soon as the Queen joined them, Robin and Gawan turned into the perfect gentlemen, doing their best to win Sansa's affection. The sight caused Tyrion's stomach to churn. She'd suffered so much already in life; Sansa deserved the knight in shining armour she'd always dreamed of. He knew Sansa would need to marry soon; he only hoped she would find happiness with her husband.

Though Tyrion shared Arya's negative opinion of the meetings and most of the lords, he did enjoy working with Sansa. She was highly intelligent and it was clear she took great pride in rebuilding the North. Tyrion didn't deserve the second chance Sansa had given him, but he would do his best to help her as long as she wanted him to.

* * *

Tyrion tossed and turned under the heavy furs. A small whimper escaping him as he slept.

_He was in Essos with Jorah Mormont. Following the slave auction they were being led through the city by their new master, Yezzan. A heavy metal collar and chains around his hands connected him to Jorah and the rest of Yezzan's slaves. Their master stopped to converse with a couple of traders in a busy square, leaving the line of slaves sweltering in the heat against a wall. Tyrion glanced around him taking in the stalls offering food and other goods, his eyes wandering over a strange wooden pillar in the middle of the square. He spotted a sickly thin girl of no more than ten, stealing a loaf of bread from the merchant's cart. The girl was fast, and the merchant hadn't noticed as she moved to escape. Tyrion hoped she would make it._

_The girl took no more than two steps before a brutish looking guard grabbed the back of her hair. Tyrion hadn't noticed the guard, but he'd apparently been watching - waiting to pounce on the girl._

_"Thief" he bellowed, shaking the girl until she dropped her prize on the floor. The whole square was watching now, and other guards were arriving having heard the shout._

_"Please" she begged, tears streaming down her face "I'm...so hungry"_

_The guard merely grinned at her pleas. Tyrion looked around him. Jorah and the other slaves had seen what had happened, but now looked away - they knew what was coming._

_"That bread will cost you a hand, you filthy little beggar" shouted the guard with a laugh, as the girl sobbed harder_

_Tyrion's stomach turned. He couldn't watch this._

_"Wait, please!" he shouted, causing the guards to turn to him as Jorah hissed at him to be quiet "I'll pay for the bread"_

_Tyrion had one coin; Yezzan had given it him as his wages. He fished it out, offering it to the brutish guard. Everyone was watching now as the guard dropped the girl and approached Tyrion. The man snarled down at him snatching the coin from his hand._

_"You a slave?" he said, leaning close to Tyrion_

_Tyrion nodded, sweat trickling down his back as the man examined him._

_"Where's your master?" he said face morphing into a smile_

_"Over here" called Yezzan, and the guard left Tyrion to speak with the slaver at the front of the slave line_

_More guards were lining the square standing near the girl who had stopped screaming, but still had silent tears running down her face. Tyrion tried to smile at her; to reassure her. His plan had been risky, but if they got some money hopefully they'd leave the girl alone. From his position at the back of the line, he couldn't see the guard or Yezzan so instead he looked around the square. All activity had stopped to watch the drama, and Tyrion grew uncomfortable. They had the coin, why couldn't they leave?_

_A shadow fell over Tyrion as the guard came back to stand over him._

_"So, you'll pay for the bread?" he asked_

_"Yes" said Tyrion, heart beating quicker. The guard looked far too happy._

_"Very good"_

_Yezzan came and stood beside the guard, amusement in his eyes "As agreed"_

_"Take him" roared the guard with a laugh, as two more guards came over and unchained him from the line_

_"Keep your head down" warned Jorah, pity in his eyes_

_Keep his head down for what? Why was Yezzan looking so pleased? Tyrion was dragged past the girl he had helped and towards the strange wooden pillar in the middle of the square he'd noticed earlier. The closer he got, realisation set in. He was paying for the bread; just not with the coin._

_"He's too short" laughed one of the guards holding Tyrion. Looking up at the wooden pillar he saw ropes hanging either side. Moments later a box appeared and Tyrion was forced on to it, his hands tied to either side of the pillar keeping him in place._

_The guard who had caught the girl appeared at his side as Tyrion tried desperately to free himself "You shouldn't have interfered dwarf. The girl would have lost a hand but you could have gone off with your master. You were willing to pay for the crime, but Yezzan doesn't want his new slave to lose a hand yet, so we reached a compromise"_

_The man grinned at Tyrion before walking off behind him. He couldn't turn around to see what was happening but he knew he was in trouble. It was stupid to have tried to help the girl, but she was so young. She didn't deserve to be mutilated._

_"Lift his shirt up, I like to see a clear target"_

_Hands pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his back, and the whole square fell silent._

_The first lash tore across his back and Tyrion cried out in pain. Again and again the whip fell, tearing his back to shreds. He couldn't escape the punishment as laughs rang out across the square._

_The guard's voice boomed out with each stroke "Let this be a lesson to all slaves. You are nothing. You have no voice. You live to serve"_

Tyrion woke with a start, the words from his dream still echoing through his mind. Sunlight was streaming in from the window, as Tyrion calmed his breathing. This was why he avoided sleeping too deeply. Yesterday had been particularly tiring though and he'd found himself quickly drifting to sleep last night.

Pushing the heavy furs back, Tyrion slipped from the bed moving to get dressed for the day. He pulled his nightshift over his head and quickly put on his black breeches. He hesitated before putting on his tunic however. The mirror in his room was largely unused for he had no interest in seeing himself. Today a different impulse drove him and he approached the mirror.

Standing before it, he saw his scarred face and curly golden hair. It wasn't his face he wanted to see though. Turning and looking over his shoulder, Tyrion grimaced at the sight of the scars that crossed his back. His reward for trying to save that girl.

It wasn't often he relieved that day, but the comments suggesting he was a slave in the council meeting the day before had clearly brought it to mind. Jorah had been quick to point out to him that evening as he lay in pain, that his actions hadn't changed anything. That girl would steal again and she would be caught again. Next time there would be no foolish dwarfs around to try and save her.

His shoulders slumped at the memory. He'd been so stupid – how had he not recognised the pillar for what it was? Why had he not just gone along with the other men? Anointed Knight Jorah Mormont had made no move to intervene; despite his oaths to protect the weak.

Tyrion moved from the mirror having seen enough. Deep down he knew why he'd tried to help the girl. After killing his father and lover, he had wanted to pretend – just for a moment.

Pretend he wasn't a monster.

* * *

Eight weeks.

Eight weeks since Sansa Stark had been crowned Queen in the North, and in that time the North had taken the first steps to recover from the wars that had ravaged it. The hearth warmed Sansa as she sat sipping wine late that evening. It had been a busy day, but what else could she expect? The border between the North and the six kingdoms was in negotiations and a plan would hopefully be finalised over the coming weeks. A trade deal with Dorne was being discussed to bring much needed food into the North. It had taken time but gradually the biggest issues she faced were being dealt with. It was a huge relief but presented another challenge.

Her marriage.

The past week pressure from the lords had been mounting that she should marry quickly, now that the more immediate problems were being dealt with. Not that the lords had been much help with any of the major issues. Lord Glover and Lord Manderly were useful in their own way, and Lord Manderly was involved in the Dornish trade deal, but most of the work had been done by Tyrion.

A smile fluttered across Sansa's face as she thought of him. His input had been invaluable and she enjoyed working with Tyrion. That was why she'd begun to insist he join her at dinner and meetings. It frustrated most of the lords to no end - not that they would say such a thing to her. Sansa was no fool; these lords wanted to use her for their own purpose. Tyrion was genuine in wanting to help her. He asked for nothing and had quickly become her closest advisor.

Gawan Glover. Robin Flint. Cley Cerwyn.

These were her options for a husband. Her council insisted she choose soon.

The room seemed to grow colder despite the hearth as she recalled a conversation between Lord Glover and Lord Manderly she'd overheard that afternoon. The men had been talking quietly in an alcove, oblivious to Sansa coming down the corridor. She would have greeted them had she not heard what they were discussing.

"…it's gone on long enough. She must choose a husband soon" argued Lord Glover

"Agreed. She's spent enough time with them now to make a choice"

"If she doesn't choose soon, we will choose for her. Either way she must be married"

"Quite right. Sansa is a fine Queen, but a man is needed to ensure the North survives. Heirs are needed"

Sansa had ducked into a doorway listening to their conversation, and her legs fell weak at their words. She had waited for the lords to move off, before leaving her hiding place

Not a forced marriage. Not again. The image of Ramsay Bolton flashed through her mind, sending a shudder through her body. Sansa had done her best to shed the abused woman image that had followed her since her marriage to Ramsay. She thought that chapter of her life had closed when the hounds ripped her husband to shreds, but now she would need to do it again. She would be forced to do it again.

No, not forced. She would make the decision this time; before they could do it for her. A thousand thoughts raced through the Queen's mind, as she twisted the now empty cup of wine in her hand.

_'Everyone is your enemy. Everyone is your friend. Every possible series of events is happening all at once. Live that way and nothing will surprise you'_

_'Power is power'_

_'Consider an action. Ask if this action will make the picture in your head a reality'_

Advice and lessons learned long ago streamed through Sansa's mind; as images of what could be flashed before her. She weighed each of her potential suitors; their strengths and weaknesses. The choice would be hers. She held the power this time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Snow was falling lightly outside the window as Sansa settled into the soft armchair in her chambers, observing her guest. Tyrion sat opposite her in the other armchair, glancing uncomfortably around the room. The bottle of wine she'd set up for them remained untouched by Tyrion. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen him drink any wine since coming to Winterfell.

It was early evening, and she'd asked Tyrion to join her after dinner. He had arrived not long ago, and now sat shifting uneasily in the opposite chair. Sansa was in no rush and took her time to look at Tyrion; she thought the northern colours of his clothes suited him. Much better than the garish red and gold that had surrounded every Lannister in Kings Landing. The hearth crackled warmly, and Sansa took a long drink of the wine; steeling herself.

"Tyrion" she called, drawing his attention to her "I asked you here tonight because there is an important matter I'd like to discuss"

"Certainly, your Grace" he said "how can I help?"

Sansa placed her cup down, reclining in her chair "To secure the future of the North. An alliance must be made through marriage"

He nodded, glancing down at his hands "Have you chosen from your potential suitors?"

"I've made my choice, but I'd like to hear your opinion first"

Tyrion raised his head in surprise "I'm hardly qualified to offer marriage advice, your Grace"

"I'll hear your opinion anyway"

"Very well" he said, sitting straighter in the chair "I believe Cley Cerwyn is your best choice"

"Explain. Why not Robin Flint or Gawan Glover?"

Sansa could see Tyrion squirming under her gaze, but she needed to know his reasons. She needed to be sure.

"Any of them is suitable for a political match. They all come from strong Northern houses and the people would respect any of them, but I believe you need someone you can work with" started Tyrion

"Go on" encouraged Sansa

"Gawan Glover seems too childish to be of any help to you. In some ways he reminds me of Joffrey - overindulged. He doesn't seem mature enough for the responsibility and I suspect you would end up babysitting him. Robin Flint is certainly more capable in that regard, and less likely to embarrass you publicly. However, I fear he pursues not you, but the power you hold"

"So, you would suggest Cley Cerwyn on this basis?"

"While he's not as handsome as the other two, I believe he is a kind man and would treat you well. What happened to his family was tragic, and he was clearly unprepared to rule as a Lord, but with time and help I believe he would rule well"

Sansa hid a smile as Tyrion lapsed into silence. Despite his logical reasoning the little Lannister had chosen Cley Cerwyn because he would treat her well, and it warmed Sansa's heart. He had also confirmed her own thoughts on her potential suitors and it made her decision even easier.

"Thank you for your honesty Tyrion" she said, sitting higher in her chair "I believe I've made my decision"

"That is good to hear, your Grace"

"You will be my husband"

Sansa watched a range of emotions twist across Tyrion's face; shock, disbelief, sadness and then fear.

He raised his eyes to hers, voice shaking "Forgive me, your Grace. I fear Northern humour is still lost on me"

"I'm not joking. You will marry me and become the Lord of Winterfell"

Sansa watched in silence as her future husband processed this information. He screwed his eyes shut and turned away from her gaze. The Queen in the North was perfectly composed, however. She had made her decision before Tyrion had even come in this room. Asking his opinion on the other lords had only cemented her choice.

"Why, your Grace?" he asked eventually, voice barely above a whisper

"You were right about my potential suitors and what they lack. You have the experience, you don't want power and you are kind" said Sansa, emphasising each point

"Your Grace there is no rush to make this choice. You are the Queen. If you don't like your suitors, find someone else. There are many strong, young Northmen who would die for your hand. Don't let your council force you into a decision you will regret. The power is yours" he pleaded, his face grim

Sansa's eyes narrowed "No-one will force me ever again. The decision and the power are mine. You are my choice"

Tyrion seemed to sink into the chair, running his hand through his curly hair. He looked as if someone had offered to kill him, not marry him. She'd expected him to resist a little, but surely he could see the logic in her choice? Her heart thudded in her chest. Why was he refusing?

Shuffling caught her attention and Sansa looked across to see Tyrion moving from his chair opposite her. He crossed the short distance with hesitation and dropped to one knee before her, his head hanging low.

"I beg you, your Grace. Please don't do this. I'm not a good man. You know what happened to my first wife, you know about Shae. I killed my own father; I betrayed Westeros. I'm a monster. You deserve a knight in shining armour, not a scarred dwarf"

Sansa knew about his first wife Tysha; she'd heard a rumour in Kings Landing and Tyrion had reluctantly explained the whole story. She even knew about Shae. Sansa had heard all about the trial and her hand maid's subsequent death. When Tyrion had come to Winterfell with Daenerys she had asked him about it and he'd told her the whole story, swearing he hadn't slept with Shae after he married Sansa. She believed him; Tyrion had never lied to her and she had not doubted his sincerity. In fact, she had found it rather sweet he honoured their marriage vows even though Sansa wouldn't consummate their union. He was a good man, despite what he said.

Now Tyrion was kneeling before her; begging to not marry her. Her stomach twisted at the sight. Carefully she reached down gripping his chin and tilting his face up to meet hers.

"The Lord of Winterfell should not speak so poorly of himself" she said, trying to ignore the pained look in his green eyes "My decision stands"

"Your father and brother were honourable men. They would be ashamed to think I was taking their place. Your Grace, please; choose someone else"

A lump formed in Sansa's throat at the thought of her family. How she wished they were here to guide her. They weren't though. Her family had died because they couldn't play the game and Sansa would not follow them. She had made her mind up; she was in control. Tyrion would marry her. He tried to subtly pull away from her grasp, but Sansa tightened her grip, brushing her thumb over his scarred cheek.

"One way or another you will be my husband" she said, feeling him flinch at her words "Stand up Tyrion"

Slowly, he rose from his kneeling position and Sansa let his face go. His eyes were downcast as he stood before her. Sansa's heart pounded.

"We will marry in five days' time before the old gods" she explained, watching him closely but he didn't react to the news "You will become my husband and the Lord of Winterfell. Do you agree?"

A grimace twisted his face, but he still wouldn't look at her "Are you giving me a choice?"

"No"

"As you command then, your Grace" he said with a sigh.

"I need your word. Otherwise, I will confine you to your room until the ceremony"

Tyrion still wouldn't meet her eyes as he whispered "You have my word"

Sansa let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. It was set. She had taken control of her life this time. She was a pawn no longer. Tyrion was standing before her still, glancing towards the door. The Queen in the North moved to the edge of her chair, taking his left hand.

"I'll tell the council and make the arrangements tomorrow. Don't come to the council meeting in the morning, but go and find the seamstress. You'll need something new for the wedding"

"Yes, your Grace" he said, fidgeting on the spot.

Why was he nervous? Sansa squeezed his hand. She hadn't wanted to threaten Tyrion, but he had to understand this would happen with or without his consent. He would be her husband and rule Winterfell and she would rule the North. Talk of forcing her to marry would never bother her again.

His hand was limp as she held it, and he still wouldn't meet her eyes. Something inside her crumbled as she looked at him. Arya had insisted to her Tyrion wasn't the man she remembered, was this what she meant? Sansa pushed the thought aside. He was still the clever, kind man she'd known in Kings Landing. He was surprised at the news; that was all. Tyrion would be fine.

"Is that all, your Grace?" he asked quietly. Sansa jerked out of her thoughts and realised he was still stood awkwardly in front of her, while she grasped his hand.

"Yes" she said, regaining her composure and releasing his hand "I'll see you tomorrow"

He bowed his head and left the room without a word.

Sansa leaned forwards pouring herself another cup of wine. The decision had been made; all that remained was to inform the realm.

* * *

Tyrion sat huddled on a box, gazing out across Winterfell. After leaving Sansa, he hadn't wanted to go to his room so instead he'd gone to the practice yard and hammered the training dummy until his arms shook. It was late when he'd come out, but still he couldn't bring himself to return to his room. So he'd walked along the battlements and sat looking out at the castle as the last traces of daylight disappeared. It'd been snowing earlier, and a fresh covering coated Winterfell as an icy breeze wrapped around him.

He wanted to go home - he didn't belong here. Winterfell and its people had been kind to him and Tyrion had accepted his place in the castle, but he couldn't be their Lord. He couldn't be Sansa Stark's husband. His vision blurred as he thought of Sansa.

Why would she want to marry him?

It wasn't love. Someone like Sansa could never love him. He knew the other lords had been pressuring her to marry, but Tyrion didn't think Sansa would ever want to again. Not after her forced marriages to him and Ramsay Bolton.

A bitter smile crossed his face. Sansa had made it very clear he had no choice in the matter and he had utterly failed to convince her to choose someone else. Truthfully, Tyrion hadn't missed being a lord. He had been happy to help the Queen however she wanted, but the meetings and dinners he'd been forced to attend hadn't made him miss politics. Tyrion had found he much preferred the company of the guards and servants - they didn't mock him and treated him like he belonged here. Tyrion knew he didn't belong here, but it had been nice to pretend for a while. Now he was going to be the Lord of Winterfell.

The breeze picked up chilling him, but Tyrion couldn't summon the energy to move. Sansa was fiercely intelligent, proud and beautiful. If she was marrying Tyrion, surely it was only out of fear of a forced marriage. Perhaps that was it? It would make sense if Sansa wanted a husband in title only. He suspected this might be like their marriage in Kings Landing. They would play the part of man and wife, but that's all it would be - pretending.

Tyrion watched the few snowflakes that had started to fall around him. He'd long given up the notion that anyone could love him. Even his own family hadn't - except Jamie, perhaps. Tyrion did care for Sansa though. She had been a sweet, innocent girl in Kings Landing. Head full of romance and tales of dashing knights. She'd grown into a strong, clever woman - passionate about protecting her people and fierce in defending them.

His mind drifted back to his first wife Tysha, and then to Shae. He'd loved them both, and let himself believe they returned his affection. It was all a lie though. Tyrion drew himself up, huddling closer. They had only ever loved his gold and his family name. The more he thought about it, no-one had ever liked him for himself. Bronn had been paid, Podrick had served him. There was no point imagining Sansa could ever love him - it just wasn't possible.

He'd heard rumours about Ramsay Bolton and what he'd done to Sansa. It broke his heart that she'd suffered so horribly and now she was determined to marry Tyrion again. Better the monster she knew, he supposed.

Soft footsteps crunched in the fresh snow, and Tyrion turned his head to see Arya approaching him. She didn't ask him why he was out here so late in the cold but the look of pity on her face told him she knew. She sank onto the box next to him placing a heavy blanket on top of him.

"Can't let the Lord of Winterfell freeze to death" she said, as he watched her warily. A few minutes passed in silence.

"I don't want it" he said eventually, voice cracking.

"I know" said Arya, watching him closely "You'll be a good lord though, and a good husband"

"I tried to tell Sansa…choose someone else…someone she can love" said Tyrion, eyes growing warm. He curled under the blanket, burying his face in the soft material. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. A moment later he felt a skinny arm wrap around his back.

"Sansa cares about you" she reassured him after a moment "She's just…not herself at the moment"

"She deserves someone better than me" he mumbled, shame flooding him. How could a lady like Sansa ever be happy with a twisted little monster like him?

"Sansa deserves a lot of things" ground out Arya, rubbing Tyrion's back "You deserve to be happy too"

"I'm sorry Lady Arya. I shouldn't be bothering you…" said Tyrion, voice thick with emotion

"Don't be sorry, brother" said Arya, pulling him closer "You're family now too"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Sansa straightened her back as Lord Manderly finished explaining the progress on a trade deal with Dorne. The meeting of her council had progressed normally, but it was coming to an end and Sansa needed to make her announcement. Her stomach fluttered as she glanced around the table. Arya hadn't come to the meeting and Sansa had told Tyrion to find the seamstress instead. She'd informed Maester Wolkan earlier this morning and tasked him with sending ravens announcing the news. All that remained was telling the lords that comprised her council.

Lady Tallhart and Cley Cerwyn were both listening attentively, while Robin Flint and Gawan Glover looked incredibly bored. Both of the young lords had been trying to win her favour for weeks, inviting her to walk with them, complimenting her, and doing their upmost to be charming. It hadn't worked though; Sansa could clearly see they both wanted her power and not her.

Lord Glover and Lord Manderly would be the biggest obstacle though. Her brother Robb had lost the North because he married the wrong girl, and Sansa needed them to back the engagement or risk the same fate. Sansa crossed her legs and then uncrossed them under the table; the time was nearly here.

"Thank you, my lord. That is excellent progress on the trade deal" said Sansa as Lord Manderly finally finished talking.

The old man looked pleased with himself and bowed his head in her direction "Thank you, your Grace"

"Is there any more business for today?" asked Lord Glover, shuffling his papers into a pile

"There is one more matter I'd like to address before we end the meeting" said Sansa, drawing curious glances from her council.

"Whatever you wish, your Grace" said Robin Flint, grinning across the table at her.

Sansa's mouth grew dry as she started to speak "As you all know, if the North is to endure I need a husband and Winterfell needs a lord. I've thought long and hard on this decision and I make it in the best interests of the North and our people"

The silence of the room was deafening as the council waited in anticipation. Robin Flint and Gawan Glover exchanged glances, knowing they were the most likely options.

Sansa took a deep breath, steeling herself "I will take Tyrion Lannister as my husband, and he will become the Lord of Winterfell"

Silence reigned through the chamber at the announcement.

"You mean to marry an exiled dwarf?" exploded Lord Glover, face pinched in anger

"Your Grace, there are many fine young lords to choose from" said Lord Manderly, sweeping a hand towards Robin, Cley and Gawan.

"You're a Queen" said Gawan Glover, face twisting into a sneer "Keeping the dwarf as a pet is one thing, why would you want to marry it?"

"Do you find us so distasteful? Or do you still have a soft spot for Lannisters?" asked Robin Flint. He was better at hiding his annoyance, but his eyes betrayed him - dark and dangerous.

"My lords, you would have all been fine choices" Sansa said, hoping to placate them "but my decision is final"

"Excellent choice" said Lady Tallhart, turning to Sansa as the old lords glared at her "You need someone capable and experienced to rule Winterfell. Tyrion is more than qualified for the role"

"We are all lords of experience - and we are from the North" ground out Lord Glover, not at all happy his son was snubbed

"Yes, and I appreciate having such loyal, experienced lords to aid me" said Sansa, smiling sweetly at him "but Tyrion bent the knee to me and pledged his loyalty to the North. He is as much a Northerner now as the rest of us. Will you back my decision?"

"I do" said Cley Cerwyn, smiling at her "Tyrion will make a fine lord"

"As do I" put in Lady Tallhart

That was two votes, but Sansa needed the other lords really. Glover and Manderly held the most power, and losing Robin Flint's support would be disastrous.

"Your Grace, how do we know your marriage to Tyrion will be consummated? Your previous marriage wasn't" said Robin Flint, sharp eyes flicking to hers.

Sansa's heartbeat sped up "I was a child the first time we married, this time it will be consummated"

"Forgive me your Grace" said Lord Glover, exchanging looks with Lord Manderly "we would find it hard to back a union with the Lannister, unless you could prove it was consummated"

"Surely you can understand our request? If your first marriage to Tyrion had been consummated you might have been spared Ramsay Bolton. The North needs a strong union that is fully sealed. There can be no doubts" explained Lord Manderly

"My previous husband" Sansa said, bile rising in her throat "consummated that marriage and took my maidenhood. I do not know how it would be possible to prove it now"

"Simple enough, your Grace" said Lady Tallhart, drawing their attention "A Maester can verify it the morning after. They take a sample and test it with some kind of plant; it will prove whether the deed has been done or not"

Sansa's legs went weak at the thought of needing to prove her marriage had been consummated. She had every intention of sharing her bed with Tyrion; she wanted children after all, but needing to prove it to these lords left a bitter taste in her mouth. Nevertheless, she was grateful for Lady Tallhart providing a solution.

"We can agree to that" said Lord Manderly "as long as one of our own Maesters is present to verify. Maester Wolkan is a good man, but his loyalty is to the Starks and we would be reassured by a second opinion"

"Very well" agreed Sansa, reluctantly "We have an agreement?"

"What happens if the imp doesn't perform his duties?" asked Gawan Glover, sulking across the table. Sansa's mouth curled in distaste; Tyrion was right in saying the young lord was like Joffrey.

"Then Queen Sansa will marry a man who will" said Lord Glover, eyes daring her to disagree "If the marriage is not sealed, a more suitable husband will be found by the council"

"I'm sure there will be no need for that, of course" offered Lord Manderly, noticing Sansa's darkening expression "They will seal their union, and we will gladly accept Tyrion as Lord of Winterfell. He has certainly proven himself capable and a great asset to the North"

"I'll agree on those terms" said Lord Glover, stiffly nodding his head

Robin Flint leaned back in his chair, smirking at Sansa "I agree with that"

Sansa's neck grew stiff as she took in the faces of her council. What right do they have to judge the Wolf? They would take her power if they could; leave her helplessly at their mercy. Never again.

"Agreed" said Sansa sharply "You will get your proof the morning after my wedding. None of you will speak a word about this discussion ever again. Understood?"

The lords nodded their heads in assent and Sansa released the breath she'd been holding. She hated having to prove her union with Tyrion, but there was no way she would let those power hungry lords force her into a marriage. She would let Tyrion bed her in the great hall if that was what it took to convince them.

* * *

"Why so sad little lion?" asked Esther stepping aside to let Tyrion into her home

"I'm not sad" said Tyrion, heading into the small grey building that appeared to be the woman's home. Sansa had told him to seek out the seamstress and Alec had directed him to the village just beyond Winterfell's borders. It was the first time he had left the castle grounds since his arrival weeks ago and he hadn't been entirely certain he was allowed to leave. The captain of the guard had laughed when he suggested such and offered to go with him, but Tyrion wanted to go alone.

The house was small and warm and Tyrion noticed piles of materials scattered around the area, as Esther directed him towards the creaking table at one end of the room. Considering Esther was the Queens seamstress of choice, her lodgings were very poor.

"How are you?" asked Tyrion, climbing on to the chair as Esther sank into one opposite

"How am I? Not many lords ask that anymore" she said, grinning at him

"I'm not a lord"

"Aye, but not for long eh?"

"How…?"

"The Queen sent a note. Make her husband look lordly. You turned up. Figured you were the husband"

Tyrion swallowed hard "Did the note actually say that?"

"Read it yourself" said Esther, laughing as she pushed the note towards Tyrion

_Seamstress,_

_There will be a royal wedding in five days' time. My future husband requires new clothes suited to his station. He will visit you in the morning._

_Sansa Stark, Queen of the North_

"You'd think the Queen might know my name. I make most of her clothes" said Esther, a sour note in her voice.

"I'm sorry" he said, trailing off. Tyrion had to admit the note was rather impersonal. When he'd first come to Winterfell with King Robert years ago, the Starks seemed to know every servant personally, yet now he often heard the guards and household staff complaining about Sansa's attitude.

"What are you sorry for? You know my name. You ask how I am" said Esther, smiling at him

"Well, you are correct; Queen Sansa has decided I will marry her"

"You don't want to though?"

The old woman was far too perceptive.

"I'm very honoured…" started Tyrion, until the woman cut him off with a laugh

"Come little lion, you don't need to pretend"

"It's my duty to obey the Queen" said Tyrion, voice thickening. He didn't want to lose his composure again. He was still mortified that Arya had seen him in such a sorry state last night.

"Aye, you sound like a Northerner alright. You'll be a good lord though. We need a lord for the small folk. Queen only has time for the fancy ones now"

"I've heard from the guards the Queen hasn't been seeing the small folk in court" admitted Tyrion

"No, Queen too busy to deal with us, she says. Even though many have no work, houses are in tatters and girls are going missing" said Esther, bitterness twisting her face into a scowl

Tyrion slid off his chair and approached the old woman.

"I'm sure the Queen is just overwhelmed with ruling. It will take her time to find a balance" said Tyrion, struggling to find the words "When I'm… lord of Winterfell, I'll do my best to help the small folk. I promise"

He would. The smallfolk and the Winterfell household had been unfailingly kind to him, and if Tyrion was to fill Ned Stark's place as Lord of Winterfell he wanted to honour the position.

The old woman's eyes lit up and she grasped Tyrion's hands, looking into his eyes "You're a sweet little lion. I believe you m'lord. Come, now. Best make you look the part for this wedding"

* * *

Arya could barely stomach the sight of her sister as they ate dinner. As usual they were seated around the high table, but Sansa had pulled Tyrion from his usual seat next to Arya and sat him beside her instead. Sansa had that perfectly smug smile on her face throughout the meal, glancing at Tyrion every so often as if he was some kind of trophy. Her soon to be husband however, looked as if he wanted the floor to swallow him and it annoyed Arya to no end. She just didn't understand how Sansa could be so oblivious.

The lords had offered Tyrion their congratulations on the engagement, but it clearly hurt most of them to do it. At the very least it amused Arya to see those pompous lords pretending they weren't offended Sansa had snubbed their preferred choices.

"Poor Tyrion looks rather nervous" whispered Lady Tallhart, also observing the conversation at the other end of the table

"Wouldn't you be nervous with Gawan and Robin glaring at you like that?" added Cley Cerwyn. The plump young lord clearly didn't like the other two and Arya had to agree. Both of them had been making sly digs at Tyrion for weeks and now they were officially not marrying the Queen, their contempt was rather less well hidden.

"You should come hunting with us sometime Tyrion" offered Lord Flint, eyeing the Lannister with a barely concealed smirk

"That might be nice" said Tyrion, shifting uncomfortably

"Gods, he'd scare all the animals off with that face" added Gawan, laughing at his own joke as Robin grinned next to him. Sansa pretended to not hear and continued conversing with Lord Manderly, while Tyrion sunk lower in his chair.

Arya on the other hand was ready to pounce. Her faceless man training had taught her control, but it still only went so far.

"Should you be speaking to your new lord like that?" she said, loud enough to draw the attention of Sansa

"What?" said Gawan, feigning innocence "He's a lion isn't he? Surely he would terrify the lesser animals"

"You don't really look a lion these days though" added Robin Flint, diverting the conversation "If not for the hair and eyes you'd barely look a Lannister"

"Red and gold tends to stand out in the North, better to blend in" said Tyrion, fiddling with his fork

"The Northern colours suit you" said Sansa, brushing her hand through Tyrion's hair. The gesture made Arya want to gag and Tyrion looked just as awkward with the forced affection.

"Thank you" he said, attempting a smile for Sansa

Arya bit down the words she wanted to scream at these people. Why was her sister so desperate to keep these lords happy? If Arya was Queen she'd have told them where to go a long time ago. Then there was Tyrion, sat dutifully at Sansa's side - resigned to being married against his will. When she'd found the little Lannister last night he'd been half frozen, tucked away in a corner of the battlements. He hadn't said much to Arya but his red rimmed eyes told her enough. She wasn't particularly good at comforting people, but she'd tried to help Tyrion and wouldn't hear any apologies from him. Her conversation with Sansa beforehand had been exasperating but Arya knew her sister well enough to read between her words. Tyrion didn't want the marriage; Sansa would force him if she had to.

Arya stabbed her fork into her meat with more force than she intended. Why was she here? Life was so much simpler when she could just poke people full of holes when they annoyed her. She missed her brother. Jon would have been able to handle this far better than her. Arya was trying, but what could she do? Sansa had become a Queen but from what Arya had seen was losing her Stark identity. Her sister had no time for the small folk, was rude to the servants and guards but loved by the lords and ladies. Yet, Tyrion was well liked by all the servants and guards and scorned by the highborn.

Arya was so consumed with her own thoughts she hadn't realised the turn the conversation had taken.

"...there's still a chance to bind our houses"

"Yes, Lady Arya is still available for marriage"

Her head shot up at the words to see Sansa and the other lords discussing her as if she were a horse for sale.

"She could make a fine match for young Lord Glover?" suggested Lord Manderly, as Gawan turned his smirking face towards her. Sansa was wearing that stupid, condescending smirk as they spoke. Her sister knew how the idea of marriage infuriated her and was enjoying every second of it.

Arya's fork dug deeply into her hand as she clenched it, deciding which of them to kill first.

"I believe Lady Arya does not wish to marry. She has plans for exploration that are sure to bring great honour to the North" cut in Tyrion, glancing between Arya and the lords "What better tale than an astoundingly brave Stark adventuring to unknown lands? Lady Arya is certain to write a very interesting chapter of the North's history"

"Certainly" agreed Lady Tallhart "a great role model for young Northern girls"

The tension began to drain out of Arya at Tyrion's intervention. At least someone understood her.

"I had my sights set quite a bit higher than her anyway" said Gawan, flashing a grin towards Sansa.

Arya made sure she was watching her sister's face when she launched her fork at Gawan Glover.

* * *

The halls of Winterfell were dark and lonely as Tyrion wandered back towards his room. Arya's fork throwing had caused chaos at the high table and he had fought back a smirk at the image of Gawan Glover staring at the fork stabbing through the last two fingers on his left hand and into the table. The shock had taken a moment to register before the young lord started to scream and Sansa had turned on Arya. The two sisters had been furious with each other and Sansa had dragged Arya off privately, while Maester Wolkan was summoned.

Rounding the corner to his room, Tyrion noticed a familiar young girl pacing in front of the door.

"Nessa, are you ok?" he called, approaching the girl. At the sound of his voice she turned, eyes darting uncertainly around the area.

"I'm…sorry. I…should go" she said, tears pooling in her eyes

"Don't go. What's wrong?" said Tyrion, catching her arm to stop her leaving "Is your mother unwell again?"

Nessa's mother was already in poor health but had taken ill a few weeks ago. The girl had reluctantly told him the truth when he found her crying and Tyrion had asked Maester Wolkan to tend to the mother.

"No" said Nessa, sniffing "Mother's ok"

"Well, is something else bothering you?" he asked gently

"I…heard you were going to marry the Queen" she said rushing the words out between sobs "and if you marry the Queen… you won't want me as a servant anymore... you'll get a better one. So I came to say…goodbye"

Tyrion's stomach turned at the reminder of his upcoming marriage. The girl was small for her age and he knelt down to look her in the eyes "You're right, the Queen is marrying me. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to tell you myself"

The girl bit her lip, "Congratulations…"

"Why are you saying goodbye though?" asked Tyrion

"The Queen and the lords get the best servants"

"I'm well prepared then, I already have the best help"

Nessa raised her watery eyes to Tyrion "Me?"

"Of course I mean you"

"So…you're not getting another servant?"

"Not unless you quit. I'd understand if you didn't want to work for a grumpy dwarf anymore"

"You're not grumpy" said Nessa, face lighting up "You treat me good. You help me learn to read. Not like the other lords and ladies treat their servants"

"You're the only person I'd trust to be my servant" whispered Tyrion conspiratorially, happy to see her tears had stopped

"Thank you Tyrion!" she squealed, taking him by surprise and throwing her arms around him "I'll be the best servant ever, promise"

"I'm sure you will" he said, throat tightening

"Love you" she mumbled into his shoulder

A strange lightness filled Tyrion as the innocent little girl hugged him. He could almost pretend he wasn't a monster.

* * *

"I can't believe you attacked Lord Gawan with a fork. Do you understand the damage you could have done? We need his father's support to rule the North" ranted Sansa, pacing in front of her little sister. Following the disaster at dinner, Sansa had dragged Arya to her room for a private talk.

Arya however, was completely unapologetic and was slumped in an armchair, one leg hanging over the arm.

"You're the Queen - command them to support you"

"It's not that simple Arya" shouted Sansa, face growing red "Why couldn't you just let them talk about marrying you? We both know it isn't going to happen"

"Tyrion didn't think he was getting married and you're forcing him"

Sansa flinched at the reminder "For the good of the North. Tyrion knows his duty, it's about time you did too"

"At least you're not denying it"

Arya looked angry, and Sansa had no idea why she was so bothered "What does it matter to you who I marry? Do you not like Tyrion?"

"I like him a lot" said Arya, crossing her arms "I'll happily call him my brother, but you've not been acting like my sister"

Sansa felt as if she'd been slapped "What do you mean?"

"You're rude to the servants, you ignore the small folk and you're that consumed with pleasing these windbag old lords, you don't care how they talk to me or your future husband" listed Arya, facing growing grim

"You think ruling is easy? I have the weight of the North on my shoulders. I have a duty to prioritise and I don't expect you to understand that"

"So, we're all just pawns in your master plan? You don't sound very much like a Stark anymore"

Heat flushed through Sansa's body "How dare you? Everything I do is for our family"

"Is it?" questioned Arya

Sansa's teeth ground together as she fought to control her rage. How dare Arya question her like this? Did she not understand how the game was played?

"We both suffered since leaving Winterfell all those years ago. I don't expect you to understand what I suffered through, or to understand what you went through. But my loyalty always has been and always will be to our family" said Sansa, anger draining out of her as she stopped pacing

"I know it's hard - I'm sorry I'm not much help" muttered Arya, guilt clear on her face. Silence fell between them.

"I suppose Gawan did ask for it" said Sansa begrudgingly "How dare he question my husband's good looks?"

Arya laughed lightly, tension cooling "Sansa, you know I want you to be happy right?"

"I know"

"You're my sister and when you marry Tyrion, he'll be my brother. I don't want either of you to get hurt. You've both been through a lot"

"It'll be fine Arya" said Sansa, offering her sister a smile. Arya just stared at her with the Stark grey eyes, as if she could see a truth Sansa was hiding.

_'Things will get easier when the marriage is done and sealed. The North will be more secure than ever'_ thought Sansa _'The other lords won't be grappling for power then'_

* * *

**A/N - This chapter was difficult to write. The method to check the marriage has been consummated is artistic license and not scientific fact. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N - Warning, this chapter deals with adult situations and gets a bit dark. Don't want to spoil it for you, but if you need specifics before reading message me. I also own nothing.**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Standing in front of her mirror, Sansa took a steadying breath. Her hand maids had done her hair in a typical Northern style and her silver direwolf crown nestled snugly on her head. She wore a long, flowing dress of blue and grey, her family's sigil winding around the fabric. This time she would marry as a Stark, surrounded by her own house colours. The past few days had passed in a whirlwind of preparation but now the wedding was upon her. Tyrion hadn't tried to talk her out of the marriage again, but had grown even quieter as the day approached which Sansa dismissed as nerves. Absently, she fingered the small wolf necklace around her neck; it had belonged to her mother and Sansa had been relieved to find it hidden away in her parent's old chambers. Arya hadn't wanted it but Sansa had been thrilled with the find. It brought her some degree of comfort, but not nearly as much as having her mother here would.

"Ready big sister?"

Sansa jumped at the voice, turning to find Arya standing in her doorway. Her little sister was dressed in a long, feminine tunic over some wide breeches, the Stark direwolf standing out proudly in the design and needle at her hip. Her sister was never one for dresses but this compromise suited them both though Sansa still wasn't sure why Arya needed a sword at a wedding when they had guards.

"I think I'm ready" said Sansa, smiling at Arya.

"You look beautiful Sansa"

"You clean up very nicely yourself"

Arya snorted, before heading out the doorway. Sansa rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the tension. This would all be done with soon.

Servants lined the inside walls of Winterfell, bowing their heads as Sansa passed. Stepping outside the castle, hundreds of lords and ladies formed a path to the Godswood. It was early evening now, and fresh snow covered the ground as the last of the daylight disappeared in the distance. Torches lit the way as Arya led her towards the heart tree. In the absence of her father or brothers, Arya would be the one to present Sansa to Tyrion. Traditionally the grooms father or family member would officiate the wedding, but as the rest of the Lannister's were dead Cley Cerwyn had offered to stand in. The quiet young lord had surprised them both with the offer, but Sansa suspected he had sympathy with Tyrion given his own family's deaths.

The snow crunched under foot as the familiar outline of the Godswood came into view. A moment of panic seized Sansa as she entered the trees. She hadn't seen Tyrion all day. What if he didn't come? He'd given his word, but he'd been acting so strangely…

The crowd around the heart tree were the most senior lords including the Glovers, Manderlys and Lady Tallhart. Sansa barely noticed them though as she saw Tyrion by the tree, the tension draining out of her. He'd trimmed his hair and beard, and was wearing a new black tunic with grey trim. All in all, Sansa thought he looked very handsome, though he did seem nervous; fidgeting with the cloak in his hands.

"Who comes before the old Gods this night?" asked Cley Cerwyn as her and Arya stopped before the tree.

"Sansa of House Stark and the Queen in the North comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?" answered Arya, as Sansa's heart sped up. She had been forced to marry Ramsay Bolton here, and the familiarity of the ceremony chilled her, despite knowing she was in control this time.

"Tyrion Lannister" said the groom, shifting uncomfortably "Who gives her?"

"Arya of house Stark, her sister"

Cley nodded, looking at Sansa "Queen Sansa, do you take this man?"

"I take this man" she said, staring at Tyrion. He offered her a tight smile, taking her hand as they knelt before the heart tree. The wedding party fell silent as the old Gods witnessed their union. She felt Tyrion slip his hand from hers after a few moments and placed a Stark cloak around her shoulders. Traditionally, it would be a cloak of the groom's house but as she was Queen Sansa felt it wasn't entirely appropriate, so instead Tyrion had symbolically placed a Stark cloak around her. The silence continued as Sansa took Tyrion's offered hand, rising to her feet. The ceremony complete, Sansa stood tall before the lords and ladies, a proud smile curving over her face. She tightened her grip on Tyrion's hand turning him towards her. The wedding party erupted in applause and Sansa swept down kissing Tyrion softly on the mouth. Her new husband tensed in surprise as she kissed him, but didn't resist.

* * *

Arya had never been particularly fond of feasts, particularly when they were full of stuffy lords and ladies and she was required to be on her best behaviour. From her seat at the high table, Arya had a very good view of her sister as she glided through the guests; her face smug and regal. Sansa had gotten what she wanted after all, thought Arya, eyes moving to Tyrion being pulled along by his new wife. Glancing around the room, Arya spotted Robin Flint and Gawan Glover conversing in a corner. The two young lords appeared to have become close friends and Arya didn't like it. They were both utterly dislikeable, though Robin hid it better than Gawan. A smirk crossed her face as she saw Gawan's bandaged fingers - he had well deserved that fork through them.

"Admiring your handy work, Lady Arya?"

She turned to find Tyrion sinking into a chair beside her, having managed to escape from Sansa's grasp.

"It does satisfy me, big brother" she said grinning at him "You can call me Arya, you know? We're family now"

The new lord of Winterfell smiled in response, but Arya could tell it was forced. He'd looked nervous throughout the whole ceremony and hadn't relaxed since.

"You survived the ceremony at least" said Arya, nudging him

"Only because I asked Lord Cerwyn to practice with me beforehand - I know the words used in the South, but the Northern tradition was new to me"

Arya's brow furrowed "I never thought you wouldn't know the ceremony. Sorry, I would have helped you if I realised"

He waved aside her apology "It's quite alright, I made it through. At least it was short and to the point"

Tyrion had been North for a few moon turns now and it was getting harder to remember he was a Lannister. It had mostly bothered her during the ceremony. Sansa had her sister for support and was surrounded by her own people; the Stark direwolf everywhere. Yet Tyrion had looked rather lost as he stood by the heart tree - his own family dead. Throughout the whole wedding there hadn't been any lion sigils flying, even Tyrion's clothes were in Northern colours. Undoubtedly it had been the other way around for Sansa's previous marriage and Arya couldn't help but wonder if that was the point.

"Did it bother you not using a Lannister cloak?" she asked

Tyrion shifted in his chair "Not at all. Lions have no place in the North"

"You have a place in the North, and you're a Lion" said Arya stubbornly "Don't forget that. There's nothing wrong with being a Lannister"

"I'm not so sure about that. My family is hated for many good reasons" said Tyrion, shrugging at her words

Arya couldn't disagree with that. She'd spent many years wishing most of his family dead, but she'd come to care for Tyrion and it made her wonder if she'd been right to hate his whole family. In any case he certainly wasn't like the rest of his family.

"Did you hate your family?" she asked quietly, curiosity getting the better of her

"Some of them. My father and sister mostly" he said, staring down at the table "a couple of cousins perhaps, but my aunt and uncles were quite kind to me. Jamie was the closest with me"

"I never thought much about the rest of your family" she admitted "do you miss them?"

"I'm fairly sure they're all dead"

"That's not what I meant"

Tyrion seemed to consider if he should answer before mumbling "I miss Jamie rather a lot"

"I'm sorry" said Arya. She'd only met Jamie a few times and hadn't particularly liked him, but Tyrion obviously loved his brother and Arya could respect that.

"I know everyone thought he had no honour - he was the Kingslayer after all" said Tyrion, as if sensing her thoughts "but he was the only one who ever showed me any love. He treated me like his brother - not a monster, and for that reason alone I could forgive him anything"

"I think he did have honour" said Arya "he kept his promise to fight the white walkers. Brienne cared for him too, and she wouldn't have loved him for nothing"

They lapsed into silence, as Arya tried to imagine what growing up with Cersei and Tywin might have been like. It wasn't hard to imagine what a miserable childhood Tyrion probably had, with only his brother for company. In some ways, Tyrion reminded her of Jon. Her brother had never been treated cruelly as Tyrion surely had, but her mother had always made it clear he wasn't welcome. Jon had often looked out of place with their family when he was old enough to understand what being a bastard meant. Now looking at Tyrion, he had the same grim resignation about him. Someone who thought their welcome would run out at any second, and they'd be left alone when it did.

Arya was broken from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps as Sansa approached the table. The lords and ladies were still chatting around the hall, but their eyes were following the Queen. Sansa was trying to hide it, but her nerves were clear enough to Arya as she stood between them.

"I think I'm getting tired" she said, looking between them

Tyrion seemed to pale at her words "Oh…"

"Come" said Sansa, smiling at Tyrion as she took his hand "let's go to bed"

Arya was dumbfounded at how obvious Sansa was being as she pulled a panic stricken Tyrion from his seat. Sansa had always been such a lady, yet it was clear she wanted everyone to know what they were going to do.

A chill crept down Arya's spine as they left. Her sister looked every bit in command but there was an undeniable edge of nervousness beneath it all, as they walked right down the centre of the great hall and out into the corridor. Tyrion had looked as if he was going to his execution when they left. Arya hoped Sansa knew what she was doing, but she didn't have a good feeling about this. There was something about the whole situation that wasn't right.

* * *

Sansa kept gripping Tyrion's hand all the way to their chambers, as if afraid he might escape before they could seal the union. Finally, the door of their room came into sight and Sansa pushed it open with a sense of relief. Her hand maids had prepared the room for the wedding night and wine sat waiting for them on the table near the blazing fire. Sansa shut the door as soon as Tyrion entered the room, fighting the impulse to lock it. She was in control; this would not be like her wedding night to Ramsay.

Turning from the door she found Tyrion standing uncertainly in the centre of the room, eyes wandering around the area.

"Would you like some wine?" she said, breaking the silence and moving to the table

"No, thank you" he said shuffling his feet

Sansa poured herself a cup and took a long drink. It had taken a while to get used to the taste but she now rather enjoyed the drink. The sweet liquid slid down her throat, as she contemplated the task ahead.

"Shall we go to bed?" she said, as Tyrion flinched at her words.

"Your Grace" said Tyrion, approaching her uncertainly "when we married in Kings Landing I promised I would never hurt you - I just want you to know that still stands. I will never hurt you"

"I never doubted that" she said, running a hand over his hair "you should call me Sansa now. We're married"

Tyrion made no move towards the bed and Sansa wasn't sure how to proceed. Ramsay had no problem taking her on their wedding night, and many times after that. Though he was rough and cruel in bedding her, she'd soon learnt there were much more horrible ways he had of hurting her. Whatever fear she'd had of being bed had disappeared long ago. It may be an unpleasant act, but it was the only way to seal their union and produce children. Often during her marriage, Ramsay had brought Miranda into the chambers and made Sansa watch while they joined in her bed. The act itself hadn't seemed to hurt Miranda - she actually seemed to enjoy it. As Sansa was forced to watch she'd learnt more than she wanted to about what could go on in the bed chamber - the act didn't have to be unpleasant and women were perhaps not totally powerless in the marriage bed.

"Are you going to get undressed?" she asked eventually, finishing her wine "Come to bed, Tyrion"

He looked uncertain but disappeared behind a screen at one end of the room while Sansa did the same. A few minutes later Sansa emerged in her shift, as did Tyrion. Ramsay had left his marks on Sansa and she wasn't particularly eager for her husband to see them. Likewise, he didn't seem to want to remove his shift either. That was fine with Sansa. They needn't be completely naked to do their duty. She climbed into the large bed, pushing the furs back as Tyrion stood awkwardly to one side.

"Come on" she said, patting the space next to her. Why was he so hesitant? He was known throughout Westeros as 'the imp' for his enthusiasm in bed, yet now he looked terrified.

Finally, he climbed on to the bed though he left a sizeable gap between them. Sansa lay back against the pillows, turning her head to Tyrion who was looking around the room anxiously.

"Whenever you're ready" she prompted, watching his expression. Surely he would get on with it now?

"What…do you mean?" he asked, voice trembling

"You need to bed me. Consummate the marriage" said Sansa. Why did he seem confused?

"We don't have to do this" he said, a note of pleading in his voice "we never have to do this. I told you a long time ago I wouldn't share your bed, I'm happy to keep that promise"

"You said not until I wanted you to. Now, I want you to"

"We can wait…it doesn't have to be tonight"

Sansa's stomach churned. He didn't want to seal their marriage?

"This isn't like Kings Landing. No-one can doubt our marriage this time" she said, a note of desperation creeping into her voice "I want children, Tyrion"

His face paled at the mention of children "Sansa, if you have children with me there's a chance they could inherit my condition"

"I don't care about that"

"I do" he whispered, fiddling with the edge of the sheets. Sansa watched him sitting on the bed, her mind racing.

"Tyrion, just lie down" she said after a few moments, tugging gently on his arm as her heart pounded "please"

Reluctantly he lay next to her and Sansa turned on her side to talk to him.

"You're a beautiful woman Sansa, you deserve a husband worthy of you. Who can give you normal children" he said, green eyes staring into hers begging her to understand "you can't really want to be stuck with me forever. Find someone you can love who will make you happy"

Sansa reached out, stroking the side of his face with her trembling hand. Tyrion was a kind, good man whether he wanted to believe it or not and it made this difficult for her.

"I chose you as my husband, Tyrion" she reassured him, running her hand through his golden hair. He dropped his gaze to the bed having laid his insecurities out. They stayed like that for a few minutes, with Sansa twirling her fingers through his hair. Her heart raced as she prepared herself.

Sansa leaned towards Tyrion, pushing her mouth on to his in a quick kiss and in one swift movement rolled on top of him, pinning him beneath her.

"What-" he said, gasping in surprise "what are you doing?"

"You'll make a wonderful father, and we'll love our children whether they inherit your condition or not" she reassured him as he started to squirm beneath her

Sansa was quite a bit taller than him, and used her long legs to pin him to the bed as she pulled his tunic up to his stomach, exposing his private area.

"Sansa, please don't do this" he begged, struggling to free himself. His eyes were filled with fear as they met hers, and Sansa felt a slither of doubt.

_'A wolf takes what is needs to survive'_ growled a familiar voice in her mind

If she didn't do this, they would marry her off to someone else. She couldn't survive that. Not again. It had to be Tyrion. Her breathing came in shallow gasps, as she steeled herself. This was for the best; Tyrion would understand.

Reaching down Sansa wrapped one hand around his cock, using the same motions she'd seen Miranda use on Ramsay. With her other hand she pushed down on his chest, holding him to the bed.

"Relax" she said, as she felt him grow hard in her hand "this will be over soon"

Despite his size, Tyrion was surely stronger than her. If he used his strength no doubt he could stop what she was doing. But he wouldn't. To force his way free, Tyrion would have to hurt her and Sansa had known he wouldn't do that when she made this decision. He gave a muffled groan as she continued pumping him and his shining green eyes turned to hers once more.

"Please" he said, voice breaking "don't do this"

He was still trying to wriggle free, but Sansa knew it was hopeless. He'd promised to never hurt her and Sansa knew he wouldn't break that promise. He was too kind.

Recalling what she'd seen Miranda do, Sansa positioned herself over Tyrion, guiding his now hard cock to her entrance before sinking on top of him. He groaned at the contact, screwing his eyes shut. With both of her hands now free, she took Tyrion's wrists pinning them to the bed at his side to stop him struggling. She'd never done this before, but she tried to emulate what she'd seen; moving herself up and down on top of her husband. Having been helpless in her last marriage bed, Sansa found the control intoxicating as she continued the rhythm. Ramsay had made her watch him with Miranda to torture her, but it had taught her something too; she wasn't powerless in the marriage bed.

Finally, Tyrion shuddered beneath her as she felt his seed spill into her, her own release coming soon after. It was done; she was safe.

Her cheeks felt flushed as she looked down at Tyrion, lying beneath her. The haze of the act evaporated quickly after finding her own satisfaction, and it left a bad taste in her mouth as she saw the look on her new husbands face. He'd given up struggling soon after she lowered herself on to him, and tears seemed to glisten at the edges of his eyes as she looked down at him. She was still holding his wrists, but slid off his cock, keeping him beneath her. Sansa bent forwards intending to kiss him, but he tilted his head away and she ended up kissing his cheek instead. A wave of guilt rolled through her, threatening to wash away her icy defences. Tyrion wouldn't look at her, but instead stared off to the side - all the fight drained out of him.

"You're mine now" she whispered to him, forcing her voice to be firm "from this day until you're last day"

He still said nothing, and Sansa released his hands, gently turning his face to look at her. His eyes were downcast and dull as they tried to look away.

"You understand why this had to be done, don't you?" she said, hoping he understood "It's for the good of the North - we both have a duty now"

"Yes, your Grace" he whispered flatly

"Sansa" she corrected, chest tightening. "You're not a prisoner anymore. You're my husband and the lord of Winterfell. Understand?"

"I understand" he said quietly, adding "do you want me to go now?"

It took a moment for Sansa to realise what he meant "No, of course not. This is your room now; I want you to stay with me"

She slid off Tyrion and lay on the bed beside him as he hastily pulled his shift into position. Some evidence of their joining had gotten on the bed and Sansa was satisfied it would be enough to spread word through Winterfell the marriage was sealed. In the morning she would go to the Maester and complete the test to prove it was consummated and then she could move on from this. The shadow of an arranged marriage would never again hang over her.

"We should rest now" she said eventually, breaking the silence "I'm sure tomorrow will be very busy for us both"

Tyrion had sat up in the bed, glancing at the door as if he might try to leave, but Sansa quickly reached down pulling the furs over them. He hesitated before lying down again.

"Good night" he said, turning away from her and curling into a ball at the far edge of the bed

"Good night Tyrion" she said, ignoring the guilt that gnawed at her heart

She hadn't wanted to force him, but it was duty. Perhaps he was just overwhelmed? The engagement and wedding had all happened in less than a week after all. He would be fine. They would be fine.

* * *

**A/N - Please don't hate me. There are still reasons for all this, and I'm not trying to make Sansa a villain, but she's got her own issues to deal with.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N - Thanks to those still reading, would like to know what you think!**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

All night Sansa was haunted by her past.

_She saw Joffrey the day her father was executed - her handsome prince showing his true face as Ned Stark died. She saw herself as the scared child she had been in Kings Landing; an amusing toy for Cersei to manipulate, a victim for Joffrey to abuse. Then there was the Eyrie with her aunt Lysa and her own brand of madness, pushing her towards the moon door. Petyr Baelish was there; saving her one minute and kissing her the next._

_The dream changed and Sansa was in the Sept of Baelor, Joffrey walking her down the aisle._

_"I'm to give you to your new husband. He's very excited to marry you"_

_Sansa wanted to stop but she couldn't. Against her will she ascended the steps. This was where she'd married Tyrion the first time, but as she got to the top a different man was facing her._

_"Why Lady Stark, you look stunning" said Ramsay Bolton, face split in a mad grin "I'll take good care of her, your Grace"_

_She tried to run, but Ramsay grabbed her, laughing "You're mine now"_

_He pushed her on to the floor, ripping her clothes off as Joffrey laughed, urging the crowd to get closer. Sansa couldn't fight back, she was too weak. Her fists bounced harmlessly off him as he raised a glinting knife above her. He was fond of cutting things. She squeezed her eyes shut as the knife descended but it never made contact._

_Sansa opened her eyes to find Tyrion standing between them, a knife in his chest._

_"I'll never hurt you" he said, sad eyes turning away from her._

_The crowd grabbed Tyrion pulling him away from her and left her lying on the ground forgotten. Sansa couldn't move, but eventually the crowd dispersed. After what felt like a lifetime, Sansa manged to crawl to where they'd been standing._

_"Tyrion?" she called, noticing a small figure lying on the ground._

_She made it to Tyrion who was lying in a pool of blood, various knives stuck out of him and a sword impaled him through one shoulder pinning him to the ground._

_"Oh, gods" Sansa said, hyperventilating "You'll be fine. You'll be fine"_

_Green eyes flickered to hers "I'll never hurt you"_

Sansa woke from the nightmare drenched in sweat. Just a dream, she told herself. She turned over to check on Tyrion and was relieved to find him asleep on the other side of the bed. Carefully, Sansa scooted closer to him and sat up. The images of her dream were still fresh in her mind and she had to check - just to be sure he was ok.

She let out a shaky breath seeing the steady rise and fall of his chest; no blood anywhere in sight. He had curled in a ball as far from her as possible, and the sight sent a wave of guilt through her. Everything she'd done had been necessary though - the marriage couldn't go unconsummated. Why wouldn't he claim his right as her husband? She had wanted him to.

In her mind she knew it had been the smart choice to take control of the situation. As a wife surely she had a right to bed her husband too? She'd made the right decision marrying Tyrion; he was the only man she trusted. She didn't regret sealing their union either. Sansa watched him sleeping as her heartbeat returned to a steady rhythm, reaching out and lightly tracing a finger down his cheek.

She'd claimed Tyrion as hers now. No matter what anyone said, that could no longer be changed. This was where he belonged now. Sansa had meant what she'd told him last night; he would be a great father when they had children. Lying back on the bed, Sansa let her mind wander to the future and its possibilities. She saw herself with children all around her, Tyrion smiling kindly at her as he regaled their children with one of his many tales. It was a happy image and it helped to force the guilt and darkness from her mind as she drifted back to sleep.

* * *

The early morning air was frosty as Tyrion made his way through Winterfell and towards the crypts. He'd woken early and managed to slip from the bed without waking Sansa. His stomach churned at the memory of last night. Since he learned he was to be married Tyrion had been convinced that his marriage to Sansa would be in name only - the possibility of her wanting to consummate it hadn't entered his thoughts at all. He'd begged her not to - they could wait, they need never join in the bed. His pleas had fallen on deaf ears however and Sansa had taken charge, forcibly joining them together as man and wife. What she'd done was so brazen; Tyrion had been too stunned to react until she had him pinned to the bed. Now it was done and there was no going back.

Warmness came to his eyes even as the cold air of the crypt greeted him. He carefully descended into the passageways, torches casting shadows along the stone walls. He hadn't been with a woman since Shae, and he hadn't slept with her since he married Sansa the first time. He'd tried in a brothel in Volantis, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even in bed with Sansa who had demanded he fulfil his duty, Tyrion just couldn't do it. Killing Shae had broken something inside him that had never healed. When he was young he'd dreamed of finding a woman who would love him for who he was, not what he could give them. First with Tysha and later with Shae he thought he'd found that, and it turned out to be just lies. Then there was Sansa. She wasn't using him for his gold - he had none now anyway, but he could tell she'd married him for duty and not love.

Tyrion wandered through the crypt glancing around at the stone faces staring down at him. Stark's from generations past watched him; cold eyes judging. He hadn't been down here since the long night and there were still signs of damage, but mostly it had been cleaned and repaired. Finally, he found his way to the stern visage of Ned Stark. The statue didn't really resemble him that closely, but his stone eyes were condemning all the same.

_'You dare take my place as lord of Winterfell?'_ they seemed to say _'you who are not worthy of my daughter'_

"I'm sorry" said Tyrion, addressing the statue of his father in law "I didn't want this. I know I shouldn't be the lord of Winterfell. You had fine, honourable sons who would have made excellent lords. I'm sorry it's not them. I'm sorry it's a Lannister taking your place - I certainly don't deserve it. I'm sorry about Jon too. He's a good, honourable man like you were, and because of his honour he was banished to the nights watch. It hardly seems fair he should spend the rest of his days alone while I have a wife, a lordship and a warm place to sleep"

The statue remained silent and Tyrion was acutely aware of the eyes of previous lords of Winterfell watching him. Judging him.

"You have two amazing daughters. I don't deserve Arya's kindness and I certainly shouldn't be Sansa's husband. You would have wanted better for her" he said, voice straining "but…she sealed the marriage. I tried to stop her; told her to marry someone worthy of her...but she wouldn't listen. I'll never hurt her or Arya, I promise you that. I swear by the old Gods and the new I'll do my best to honour your family and Winterfell"

Tears streamed freely down Tyrion's face now as he sank to the floor. He felt far too weak to do anything. The Starks were all about duty and honour and whether he liked it or not, he had a duty now too. His own father had made it abundantly clear he would never make him heir to Casterly Rock and Tyrion was beginning to understand why. He was wholly inadequate for the job before him.

Tyrion wiped his face with his sleeve, gazing up again at Eddard Stark. He meant what he said. He would stay at Winterfell and do his duty as lord. He would stay with Sansa as long as she wanted him too. If the day came when she wanted him gone, he would go without question. When he left the crypts, Tyrion resolved to throw everything he had into serving the North. For now, he let the tears fall as the faces of past lords burned into him, silently telling him what he already knew; you don't belong here.

* * *

Arya Stark crept from the crypt on silent feet. She hadn't meant to spy on Tyrion but she'd caught sight of him heading across the courtyard early on and curiosity had gotten the better of her. Since coming to Winterfell, Tyrion rarely strayed from the same few locations as if he was afraid of overstepping some invisible boundaries, and seeing him move towards the crypts was intriguing. As far as Arya was concerned this was his home too and he was absolutely free to go where he liked, but instinct had urged her to follow. She'd arrived at the crypts to see Tyrion looking up at the statue of her father and she'd ended up listening to a conversation she was never meant to hear.

It had taken every ounce of self-control to not dash from her place in the shadows and comfort her new brother as he spoke, but Arya was aware this was very personal. He needed to talk and he'd come to the place of the dead to do it. If she had confronted him then as every fibre of her being wanted to he would be mortified. Instead she'd quietly slipped away as he cried - her own heart cracking at the sound.

The cold breeze was welcome as she stepped away from the crypts and wandered through the courtyard. The sun was rising and the household of Winterfell was starting to come to life.

"Morning, m'lady" called Emory, the old kennel master heading towards his hounds

"Morning" she called, continuing her aimless journey around the courtyard occasionally exchanging greetings with the servants and guards.

Eventually she climbed onto the battlements settling into the corner she'd found Tyrion in several days before. What was she supposed to do? Part of her wanted to go back to Tyrion and convince him he was a good man; that he was family. The other, louder part of her wanted to confront her sister and shake her until her icy demeanour cracked and shattered. Something about Sansa's behaviour had bothered her since her return to Winterfell and there was something wrong about the whole situation.

She couldn't do anything for Tyrion now, so instead she decided to find her sister. What Tyrion had said in the crypts wasn't meant to be overheard and she wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone, including her sister, but it did give her reason to be concerned. She was making her way along the corridor towards Sansa's room when the voices of Lord Glover and Lord Manderly drifted along the corridor to her. Arya arrived outside Maester Wolkan's room to see all of Sansa's council present outside the door, including Lady Tallhart, Cley Cerwyn, Gawan Glover and Robin Flint.

"What's going on?" she said, sidling up to Cley

"Ah, Lady Arya" he said clearly uncomfortable "the Queen wanted us all present while the Maester's were checking her"

"Is she unwell?" Arya demanded, concern bubbling up

"No, she's fine" said Lady Tallhart quickly

"Then why are you all here?" she asked, gaining the attention of the other lords. Both Lady Tallhart and Cley exchanged awkward glances and Arya felt her annoyance rising "What is going on?"

"The Queen is providing evidence the imp bed her" said Gawan, sneering at her

"What?" said Arya, eyebrows knitting together. What where they talking about?

"Since Queen Sansa's previous marriage to Tyrion was unconsummated, the council wouldn't approve the match unless she could prove this one was" explained Robin Flint, smirking in her direction

Rage flooded through Arya "How dare you?"

"Come with me" said Lady Tallhart, looping an arm through hers "I'll explain"

Reluctantly, Arya let herself be pulled to one side by the older woman.

"Why would the council need proof?" she demanded

"Myself and Lord Cerwyn were happy to approve the match – I think your sister by far made the wisest choice. You and I both know neither of those young lords were suitable, but the rest of the council took the news less kindly. Lord Glover in particular was unhappy his son was snubbed and Lord Flint did not like it either. The rest of the council would have blocked the match on the grounds it may not be sealed, so I suggested a way to prove it had been consummated"

"Sansa's the Queen why would she care what those stuffy lords think?" growled Arya

"Personally, I think your sister values their opinions too highly. I did not need evidence of their union; what a man and wife do in their bed chamber is their own business, particularly after her previous marriage to the Bolton's. Nevertheless, she agreed to their demands and summoned us all here to await the Maester's confirmation"

"I don't like any of this" fumed Arya

"Nor do I" said the older woman lightly squeezing her arm "but Queen Sansa needs us to support her decisions openly if she is to have respect. Perhaps things will be easier now Tyrion is Lord of Winterfell – he's a very capable man that she can rely on"

Arya nodded her understanding, forcing down her rage. Lady Tallhart was right – questioning Sansa publicly would humiliate her, but she had every intention of confronting her in private. Her mind continued to turn through what she'd heard in the crypts. By the sound of it Tyrion hadn't wanted to seal the marriage yet Sansa had done it anyway. Arya closed her eyes rubbing at the middle of her head. Surely Sansa hadn't forced herself on Tyrion? After all, her sister had been forced by Ramsay Bolton and it was hard to believe she would inflict the same on someone else - particularly someone she cared about.

She would get to the bottom of this one way or another, but first she would need to talk to Sansa.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N - Struggled to write this chapter and rewrote it like three times, but here it is.**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Sansa crossed her arms and then uncrossed them as she waited for Maester Wolkan and Lord Glover's Maester to complete the test. They'd taken a sample from her following an exam and were now testing it to see if the marriage had been consummated. Why was she so nervous? Sansa knew the deed had been done; she'd made certain of it. Still, she wouldn't relax until the test was complete and her council was informed.

Then there was Tyrion. She couldn't describe the panic she'd felt that morning when she woke to find her new husband gone from the bed. Sansa had wanted to race from her room and find him, but instead forced herself to be calm. Last night may have been uncomfortable for him, but surely he wouldn't have left? He couldn't have left; Sansa wouldn't believe it. Pushing the doubt from her mind, she had forced herself to get ready and make the trip to see the Maesters, though she had passed Tyrion's old room and the library on the way hoping to find her husband. A servant had been sent to gather the council outside the door for the results, and she could hear them talking in low voices as they waited.

"The test is complete, your Grace" informed Master Wolkan, turning towards the bed she sat on

"It is conclusive" agreed the other Maester called Vard, a younger man with only a little grey in his hair

"Good. Let the council in and inform them of the result" she ordered, standing from the bed.

Sansa's heart pounded as the lords and ladies filed into the room, but her stomach rolled when Arya joined them. Her little sister wasn't supposed to know about this.

"Your Grace" greeted Lord Manderly, inclining his head

"What is the result then?" asked Lord Glover, glancing towards his son. It was hardly a secret what result he hoped for.

Maester Vard stepped forward "We are both in complete agreement following an examination and testing that the marriage has been consummated. There is no doubt"

Sansa released a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding "I believe this puts an end to the matter"

The reactions around the room were mixed and Sansa was very aware of Arya's eyes burning into her.

"Can't believe you actually let the dwarf touch you" muttered Gawan, sulking. His father appeared to share a similar sentiment.

"He's your lord now" warned Arya "and he's my brother"

Robin turned to Sansa, a smile on his face "Congratulations on your marriage, my Queen. I wish you both happiness, and I will gladly accept your husband as the lord of Winterfell"

Sansa didn't believe that, but the rest of the lords and ladies echoed the sentiment, some more enthusiastically than others, and Sansa offered them a gracious smile.

"I appreciate your support my lords and ladies. Now if you will excuse me, I have business to deal with. I hope to see you all for dinner"

The group dispersed from the Maester's room, Sansa leaving with Arya close on her heels.

"How is the blushing bride this morning?" asked Arya "Tired after a busy night, I'm sure"

A chill went through Sansa at her sisters words "I'm very well. Have you seen Tyrion by any chance?"

"Nope" said Arya, eyeing her suspiciously "lost him already?"

Sansa swallowed hard, panic rising "He was gone when I woke up"

"I haven't seen him. Did something happen between you two?"

The Queen didn't answer but continued travelling through Winterfell, hoping beyond hope Tyrion was somewhere in the castle.

"Why are you in such a panic? Maybe he's going about his lordly duties. I'm sure he wouldn't leave his loving wife" prodded Arya

"Do you know where he is?" she demanded, glaring at her sister

Arya met her gaze steadily "I told you I don't"

Sansa took a deep breath as she continued winding through the corridors.

"Why were you with the council this morning?" asked Sansa, trying to distract herself

"I was on my way to see you, and saw them all standing outside Maester Wolkan's room. I was curious"

"Oh"

"Is that all you've got to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" demanded Sansa, coming to a stop and turning on her sister

"You're the Queen, it's not the councils business if you lay with your husband or not" challenged Arya

"Yes, it is. There could be no doubts about the marriage - it had to be consummated"

Arya was making her uncomfortable, grey eyes studying hers like a predator "Tyrion didn't want to consummate it did he?"

"Why would you think that?"

"He didn't want to get married in the first place. Would make sense if he was reluctant to seal the deal"

Sansa's face flushed "As you said, its no-one else's business but ours"

"You're not denying it. Did you force him…"

"Tyrion is mine now" said Sansa, voice rising "no-one will take him from me. That's all that matters!"

Arya stepped back, mouth falling open "Aw Sansa, I didn't mean-"

"Just stop" said Sansa, folding her arms around herself and setting off again down the corridor. Why did Arya always have to get under her skin? She was a Queen, outbursts of emotion could not happen. Besides, she wasn't entirely sure where that outburst had come from.

_'You know where it came from'_ whispered her traitorous mind _'almost everyone you ever loved has been taken from you…'_

Sansa strode ahead of Arya and down the stairs, fighting to regain her mask of composure.

_'Your opponents will seize on any weakness and use it against you'_

A flurry of voices echoed down the corridor and Sansa made her way in that direction. There was no council meeting and she wouldn't hold court until this afternoon, so she wasn't sure what could be going on. She turned into the great hall from the side entrance, a crowd of small folk were gathered at the back of the hall and an elderly man stood alone in the middle of the room.

"I can't replace what you've lost, but I can help rebuild your homes that have been damaged by war. I will send some of the Winterfell guard to organise the rebuilding efforts and see what needs the most immediate attention" determined a deep voice

Sansa nearly dropped in relief when she saw Tyrion sat on a chair in front of her throne; listening to petitioners.

"Thank you, m'lord" said the man, bowing low before backing away

Her husband looked uncomfortable as he sat on the raised platform, all the eyes of the great hall on him, but to Sansa he looked every bit the lord of Winterfell. The crowd had begun to notice her and quickly parted as she made her way towards Tyrion. The closer she got, it was easier to see the nerves in his tense expression and the constant tapping of his fingers on the arm of the chair.

"Sorry to interrupt you my lord" Sansa said, smiling at him as she ascended the stairs

Tyrion shifted around in his chair "Your Grace, am I in your way? I thought I might see some of the Winterfell petitioners before you held court this afternoon…"

"No, you're fine" she reassured him, glancing up at her own chair "you could have sat on the throne. I wouldn't have minded"

"Thank you, but I'm quite alright here"

He was watching her warily; as if afraid he'd done something wrong. The great hall was quiet but Sansa could see there were a lot of petitioners left waiting to speak to him.

"I'm glad to see you've accepted the role; I knew it would suit you" she said, laying her hand on his arm.

Tyrion offered her a small smile, but wouldn't meet her eyes. Sansa didn't understand why he doubted himself. He had the right temperament and clever mind to be a great lord. She wouldn't have trusted Winterfell to anyone else.

"I suppose we'll see if I'm any good at it"

Finding him gone this morning had unsettled her, but she let a satisfied smile curl over her face. She had no doubts she'd made the right decision about Tyrion. Sansa was very aware of the crowd waiting to continue the session, but she couldn't help sweeping down and kissing her husband's cheek.

"I shall leave you to your duty, my lord" she whispered, noting the redness creeping up his neck at the gesture.

Sansa strode from the great hall; held head high. Her dream the night before had shaken her, but it was just a dream - Tyrion was fine. Everything would be fine.

* * *

It was late afternoon when Arya found Tyrion in the library. Piles of books spread on a table around him while Nessa dutifully sorted the books into some kind of order. She hovered in the doorway watching them work.

"Nessa, can you pass me the book called 'Protection against the cold' please" asked Tyrion, head not moving from his papers

The little girl found the volume and brought it to the table "This one?"

"Yes, thank you my dear"

"I didn't know you could read Nessa" called Arya, stepping further into the room and making her presence known

"Good afternoon, lady Arya" he greeted her

"Tyrion helps me" she said, bright eyes gazing up at Arya

"Nessa is a clever girl, she hardly needs my help" said Tyrion, sinking back in his chair as the girl's eyes lit up at the compliment

"I'm going to be as smart as Tyrion someday" she asserted, daring anyone to disagree

"No Nessa - you'll be much smarter I'm sure" said Tyrion, smiling at the girl's enthusiasm

Arya smiled at their interaction. Nessa clearly worshiped him and Tyrion seemed to enjoy her company. At the very least she made him smile, which was something Arya rarely saw from him.

"What can I do for you, my lady?" asked Tyrion, turning his attention to her

"You can start calling me Arya, dear brother"

"As you wish"

"I was heading to dinner" she said "figured I'd collect you"

"What makes you think I wouldn't come?"

"I never see you eat any other meal"

"He doesn't" confirmed Nessa, shaking her head sadly

"Nessa!" said Tyrion, rolling his eyes "Betrayed by my own squire"

The little girl trotted to his side, big eyes looking up at him "Mother always says if you don't eat your meals you won't grow big and strong"

"Well that explains a lot in my case" he said snorting

Arya moved over to the desk herself, seizing hold of Tyrion's wrist and tugging him to his feet "Don't worry Nessa, he's going to eat dinner"

"It seems I am" said Tyrion with a sigh "I believe that's enough for today Nessa, I'll see you tomorrow"

"Ok, Tyrion. Bye Lady Arya!" she called, wrapping her arms quickly around Tyrion before skipping out of the library

"I think she likes you" said Arya stifling a laugh

"Gods know why"

Arya released his wrist as they made their own way out of the library. She desperately wanted to talk to him about what he'd said in the crypts that morning, but Arya knew it wasn't meant to be overheard. Then there was Sansa who'd all but admitted to forcing him in her bed last night. How do you talk to someone about that?

"I saw you in court today" she said at last "very impressive"

"Thought I might as well get some work started"

"All you do is work"

"Not true. I went the practice yard as well"

"Good. My orders still stand you know? You must attend dinner and spend some time not doing work" she said with a grin.

Tyrion just looked at her with a sad smile "Understood"

Arya stopped walking and caught his shoulder, pulling him into an alcove.

"Are you ok? I know you didn't want any of this" she said, as Tyrion shuffled awkwardly on the spot

"I'm fine"

"Be honest" said Arya "you can talk to me. I won't judge you"

"I appreciate that, but truly I'm fine"

"Sansa's being nice to you?" she asked, desperate to get something from him

Tyrion eyed her warily "Is this about why she went to see the Maester this morning?"

"She told you?"

"No. The young lord Glover saw me in a corridor this morning and congratulated me on fulfilling my obligation and generously providing proof" he said, bitterness tinging his words "I asked Cley Cerwyn afterwards and he told me"

"I hate Gawan" said Arya, curling her hands into fists "Sansa shouldn't have done that stupid test either - especially without telling you. No-one else needs to know"

"It's done now" said Tyrion, wrapping his arms around himself "Everyone knows the marriage is sealed"

Arya's eyes narrowed. Tyrion was obviously upset about last night, and in that moment she hated her sister for doing that to him.

"Did Sansa hurt you?" she asked, softening her tone

"Of course not" he said too quickly, green eyes watching her.

"Tyrion, I know…." She trailed off, changing track "you didn't want this marriage or to be the lord of Winterfell, but you'll be a great lord"

She couldn't bring herself to mention the bedding. Arya knew now what had happened, but to bring it up to Tyrion would only humiliate him. Aside from that, it was too late to change what had happened.

"I will never be as good as your father or brother at ruling Winterfell. I was never meant for this" he said, sighing heavily

"You were the heir to Casterly Rock, weren't you? You were always going to be a lord someday" she said, brow furrowing

"Technically I was since Jamie was Kingsguard, but my father refused to acknowledge me as such. Father told me he'd rather let maggots consume him than name me as heir"

"I'm sorry"

"Doesn't matter now anyway. I'll never see Casterly Rock again and it's probably for the best" he said fiddling with his sleeves "shall we go to dinner?"

Without thinking Arya bent down and wrapped her arms around Tyrion.

"You're as bad as Nessa" he complained, voice muffled against her shoulder

"I can't hug my big brother?"

"I suppose" he relented, returning the hug

"Promise you'll tell me if anything's bothering you? Sansa's so different these days; it's hard to help her, but I can help you"

"You don't need to worry Arya, we're both fine…" he said, gently trying to move out of the hug but Arya clutched him tighter

"Promise" she demanded

"I promise"

Arya nodded, swallowing hard. It wasn't fair. She understood why Sansa had married Tyrion now and she sympathized with her sister. Their whole family was either dead or far away, and Arya would leave eventually too. Sansa wanted someone who wouldn't leave her and she'd latched on to Tyrion. On the other hand, Tyrion had lost everything he ever cared about and Sansa was using him to satisfy her own needs without considering his.

For Arya it was hard to watch and she didn't know how to make it better. She would try though.

* * *

The flames crackled, warming the room as Sansa sat reading through her letters. Many of the responses to her marriage had only come in today, given the short engagement. Jon hadn't replied, but that was hardly surprising. A message had been sent to Castle Black informing him of the marriage but who knew how long it would be until Jon returned there - or if he ever would. She read through the many congratulations received from the lords and ladies, though they were nearly identical messages; standard responses and nothing more. Her eyes kept wandering to the last letter sat beside her; a message bearing a three-eyed raven sigil.

Hesitantly, she lifted the letter and read its contents. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know her younger brothers thoughts on her marriage, but she could put it off no longer.

_Dear Sansa_

_Congratulations on your marriage, I wish you both happiness. It is good to see the North beginning to recover. Kings Landing is also recovering. Ser Davos is a good man and he makes a good hand, though he wasn't my first choice as you well know._

_In any case, the past cannot be changed and the path we are on is set. Look after our family Sansa - Winter is coming._

_Bran Stark_

Despite the heat of the room, a chill crept down Sansa's spine at her brothers words. She loved Bran dearly, but since becoming the three-eyed raven everything he said seemed to have a double meaning. She twisted the paper in her hands before tossing it on the fire.

Sansa clasped her hands in front of her, mind turning. She knew who Bran's first choice of hand was. She knew because she'd convinced her brother to change his mind. Sansa had gone alone to see Bran, soon after he'd been made King and asked his plans.

"I'm sorry for what will happen to Jon" Bran had told her "but I think he will be happier with the wildlings anyway"

"Yes, I'm sure he will"

"That's not what you came to speak about though"

"What will you do with Tyrion?" she had asked, avoiding her brother's all-knowing eyes

"I will not execute him if that's what worries you. He's a good man who made mistakes"

"He doesn't deserve to die" she agreed

"I will make him my hand - he can help repair the damage of his mistakes. Tyrion will be the lord of Casterly Rock and warden of the west"

Sansa considered for a moment before replying "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"The people may think you weak for allowing him to retain his titles after all that's happened. They will want to see justice is done. It could be dangerous for him too; surely people would like to kill the last Lannister"

"What would you have me do?" he had said, dark eyes studying her

"Banish Tyrion. Strip him of his land and titles and give him to me" she replied, holding Bran's gaze

"Why would he be safer in the North? Lannister's are well hated there"

"If he bends the knee to me, I'll forgive him his crimes and make him a Northerner - a fresh start. He will help me rebuild the North"

Bran had watched her with thousand year old eyes then, concern crossing his face.

"Are you certain you want this Sansa?"

"Yes - I think it's the best solution. The other lords and ladies are more likely to see it as justice too"

"I will sentence him tomorrow as you suggest, and then you can take him" said Bran eventually, breaking his stare and blinking "Tyrion is my friend, I trust you will look after him"

Guilt clawed up her throat, recalling the conversation. It had been difficult to see Tyrion when he first came to Winterfell, looking lost and afraid after being banished from his home. More than once Sansa had regretted taking away Casterly Rock and the life he could have had as Bran's hand, but she didn't regret bringing him North or marrying him. She had asked Bran to tell no-one of their conversation and he had agreed to keep it secret. Tyrion didn't need to know the truth; besides he was a lord again now. His place was with Sansa in the North.

_'It's in the past now anyway'_ she thought as the letter burned on the hearth.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N - This chapter gave me major writers block, but it's long to enjoy. Try not to hate Sansa, there is still a reason for all this somewhere in my mind.**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Tyrion lay still in the bed, keeping his breathing steady. It was the second night of their marriage and Sansa had made it clear she expected him to sleep in the bed with her and share the room. Mercifully she hadn't wanted to bed him tonight and had simply kissed him before going to sleep herself.

Shame burned through him at the bedding of the night before. He had a beautiful wife who had wanted to sleep with him, yet he just couldn't do it. Sansa was the first woman to share his bed who hadn't been paid, but she still hadn't come to him out of love. As much as he cared for Sansa he was a means to an end for her, wanting something more was foolish.

Absently, he fiddled with the edge of the blanket. He'd thought Shae loved him but she was merely good at pretending. If she'd loved him she wouldn't have betrayed him and then bedded his father. Sansa was good at pretending too. If he didn't know better he might have thought she cared a little for him from the occasional displays of affection. At the very least she didn't seem disgusted by his appearance or recoil from kissing him like she had at their first wedding. Tyrion still struggled to believe she'd sealed the marriage in an act that had shocked and terrified him in equal measure. It was as if a chain of responsibility had wrapped around him when it was done, tethering him to Winterfell. He desperately hoped Sansa hadn't gotten pregnant after last night. Tyrion couldn't bear the thought of condemning an innocent child to live with his condition.

Then there was the issue of sharing a room. While they both had screens to change behind, he didn't want Sansa to see the scars on his back, and was thankful she hadn't cared if he slept in his nightshift. His new wife would surely ask questions if she saw the marks and he couldn't bear the thought of telling her he'd been bought and sold by slavers. Tyrion knew he should have told her before they married, if she found out now she would be ashamed and humiliated.

Closing his eyes, Tyrion tried to get comfortable in the bed. He shouldn't be ungrateful - Sansa had treated him far better than he deserved. He was determined to do his best now and try to honour the Stark men who had ruled Winterfell before him. Whatever Sansa wanted from him was hers to take; he wouldn't resist.

* * *

Sansa sat in the snow of the godswood, the stillness offering her a comfort she never appreciated as a child. Reaching forwards her fingers traced the roughness of the heart tree; the place where she'd been married twice now. Her father had spent much of his time here and it brought her a strange comfort. More comfort than the tombstone in the crypt did, especially after the dead had attacked them during the long night.

_'Maybe we should have stayed married'_ said a deep voice, fondness tinging his tone

Tyrion had been right as he usually was, though Sansa. They were together now - for good this time. Would her father approve of her choice? Approve of everything she'd done to get here? Sansa wanted to believe her parents would be proud of her, but she doubted it. The Stark honour they'd clung to was the death of them, and Sansa was determined to avoid the same fate. If she had to adapt her approach to keep her family alive she would.

"I hope you understand why I've had to make the decisions I have" she whispered, lying her hand against the heart tree "I love you both so much, and Robb and Rickon. You never taught me how to rule or how to command so I've had to learn for myself; hopefully you'll be proud one day. I miss you all so much"

Sansa bowed her head, hoping her family could hear her. She didn't pray anymore, but the godswood was a sanctuary that reminded her of her childhood. She knew it was a weakness, but it was the only one she allowed herself. She had to be strong for her family; the only ones she loved.

_'The more people you love the weaker you are'_ whispered a voice long dead

Sansa wouldn't be weak. To protect her family she'd break every rule in the book if she had to. A wolf protects her pack.

* * *

The snow crunched softly under his boots as Tyrion made his way into the village. He'd been the lord of Winterfell for two days now and this visit was long overdue. Knocking on the worn out wooden door, Tyrion glanced around the village taking in the state of the buildings. Though the weather wasn't as cold as it had been, the houses were still woefully unequipped for the wintery conditions of the North. It was little wonder the petitioners who came to his court sought help to rebuild their homes.

The door creaked open, and Esther's old face crinkled in surprise at the sight of him. Last time he'd been there Tyrion had gotten the impression Esther had few visitors and spent most of her time alone.

"Morning, m'lord. Queen sent you for more clothes?" she asked looking him up and down

"No - I just wanted to give you this" he said passing over a basket of food and some flowers

"What…" she said, eyes widening in surprise as she took the gifts

"You made me look rather presentable for the wedding and I know what a difficult feat that is. I just wanted to thank you" said Tyrion, shifting uncomfortably.

An awkward silence fell between them and Tyrion resisted the urge to flee as Esther stared at him. He knew the poor woman had worked night and day on the wedding outfits for him and Sansa, given how short the engagement was. It only seemed right to thank her for the hard work.

"I shall leave you in peace" said Tyrion, turning to go "I hope you enjoy the gifts"

A hand closed on his shoulder and Tyrion turned to find Esther smiling at him, tears shining in the corner of her eyes.

"Thank you m'lord. Won't you come inside and keep an old woman company for a while? I'm sure even a little lion has plenty of interesting tales to tell"

Tyrion didn't have the heart to refuse Esther, so he let her lead him into the house. He knew better than most what it was like to be lonely and used as a means to an end - if he could help the kind old woman in any way he would.

* * *

It was during a council meeting a week after the wedding, when the lords informed her of their plans to return home.

"It's for the best, your Grace" said Lord Manderly "our own castles and land require attention"

"Agreed. The North is starting to heal and we can continue your work from our own seats" added Lord Glover, to a chorus of nods

"I understand completely. You've been very kind in helping me as long as you have. Your loyalty will not be forgotten" said Sansa, hiding the tremble of her hands. The crown was a heavy burden, and now she would be bearing it alone; without the advice of others to guide her.

"I'll remain a while longer if you don't mind, your Grace. You've done some great work and I'd like to help you a little longer before returning to my own keep" said Robin Flint, flashing an easy smile at her

"Yes, I would like Gawan to remain longer too if you're amenable. It would give him more experience and leave you a friendly ear" added Lord Glover, eyeing his son

"That is most gracious of you both" said Sansa, offering a smile at the two young men "I gladly accept you offer"

Sansa would have much rather they both gone and left Cley Cerwyn or Lady Tallhart instead. The two young lords were always gallant and charming towards her, but they made her nervous all the same. Perhaps it was because Joffrey and Ramsay had acted the same before revealing their true natures. As quickly as the thought came to her, Sansa dismissed it. Not all men were monsters and it was unfair to judge these young lords based on her terrible experiences.

"Your husband will help you too, I have no doubt" offered Lady Tallhart, smiling kindly at her

That was true. When everyone else left her - as they always did, at least she would still have Tyrion. A man she could trust and depend on. Perhaps, when Winterfell was quieter they would grow closer. She'd told Tyrion her chamber was for both of them now and they must share the same bed, but since their wedding night he seemed afraid to come near her. Sansa wasn't immune to the pangs of guilt that ran through her watching him curl up as far from her as possible, but she wasn't sure how to fix it either. Her mother had once told her the love she had for her husband hadn't happened over night; they'd built it up over time. That was what Sansa wanted her marriage to be like, but her own experience of romance had been jaded by Joffrey, Ramsay and Petyr Baelish. She'd learnt the hard way anything you cared about could and would be taken from you. The best defence was to always play the game.

_'Fight every battle everywhere, always in your mind'_

To survive Sansa had to plan for any possible scenario; secure everything that mattered. As distasteful as her actions on her wedding night were, Sansa had planned for the scenario where Tyrion wouldn't bed her. She'd done what was needed to secure her future and bind them together; even though she hated hurting him. As Queen in the North, Sansa had no choice but to fulfill her duty by any means necessary.

* * *

"Tyrion, do you want to practice with me?" called Cayn bouncing over to where he was hitting the wooden dummy. A light covering of snow coated the ground, but the sky was clear in the early afternoon.

"You would knock me senseless" said Tyrion, halting his own practice to look at the young man.

"Aww, I wouldn't hurt you"

"You do realise I'm a dwarf? Fighting is not a skill I'm blessed with"

"I don't mean sparring - we could just do drills with each other. I'll teach you"

"Go on Lannister, you've beaten that dummy to death. Knock some sense into the lad instead" said Brice with a grin, sharpening his own weapon in the corner

"Please" said Cayn, gazing at him with big eyes "I've no-one else to practice with since Lyle and Alec went to help in the village"

That was partly true. Tyrion had promised the surrounding villages help to rebuild their homes to protect against the weather and several of the guards had been sent to organise the efforts.

"There are dozens of men who train here every day"

"Yeah, but you're my friend. You like learning, don't you?"

Tyrion sighed. It was hard to resist Cayn or his older brother Lyle - the two young men were always so cheerful and enthusiastic. After weeks of hitting the training dummy, he had to admit trying something new was tempting.

"Very well" he relented, trudging into the open of the training yard "but if anyone laughs at me you have to defend my honour"

"Deal!" said Cayn, face lighting up "We'll start with something easy"

Despite his reservations a sense of excitement filled Tyrion as Cayn patiently talked him through what they were going to do. No matter how many years his father had been dead, there was still some joy to be found in rebelling against his orders.

_'I will not have you disgrace the family by training in arms. Someone like you will never be a knight'_

His father's words from so long ago rang through his mind. As a boy, he'd wanted to be a heroic knight like his brother, but his father had shattered that dream without mercy.

Tyrion would never be a knight, but he hoped his father was watching from whichever of the seven hells he'd ended up in. If only he could see the look on his father's face at one more defiance from his most hated son. It made the possibility of being laughed at for practicing swordplay worthwhile.

* * *

_"What do you think of my trophy?"_

_Sansa followed Joffrey's gaze, vomit burning up her throat. The boy King looked pleased with himself as he pointed to the spike adorned with her father's head. She wanted to run; to escape, but the kingsguard behind her made it impossible._

_"Look at it. What do you think?" he demanded again, coming closer_

_She couldn't breathe. It barely looked like her father anymore._

_"If that pleases you, you'll love this" Joffrey said, sweeping his arm to one side._

_Sansa could only stare in horror at the heads of her mother, Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya and Jon also mounted on spikes._

_"No…." moaned Sansa, unable to tear her eyes from the grisly sight_

_"You're my lady - whoever you care about, I'll find a way to hurt them. I swear it" he said, a cruel smile twisting his features._

_"No….you're a monster…."_

_"and soon you'll be my wife"_

_Joffrey reached towards her, clamping down on her arms and pushing his mouth on to hers._

Sansa woke with a start, her body shivering despite the warmth of the furs covering the bed.

"Sansa, are you alright?" asked a sleepy voice across from her

_'No, I'm not'_ she thought, stomach churning at the horrid imagery of her dream

"I…think so" she said instead, swallowing hard

The bed creaked as Tyrion sat up on his side of the bed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, eyeing her uneasily

"It was nothing" Sansa said "I'm sorry I woke you"

"It's okay. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine"

Tyrion didn't seem to believe her but nodded anyway.

"Sleep well" he said, turning away from her and returning to his own sleep

Sansa gazed at her husband for a moment before settling down again. They'd been married for two weeks now and she wanted her husband to comfort her, but he looked so hesitant that she didn't want to force him. Not after taking him against his will on their wedding night. The hurt on his face when it was done haunted her as often as her other nightmares.

She was a wolf; she could survive bad dreams. Her own life had resembled one for years.

* * *

"Please help me - she's my last granddaughter. She's been taken like the rest, I just know it"

Tyrion squirmed uncomfortably at the elderly wildling before him. The man was gaunt and unkempt, exhaustion and desperation apparent in his features. Part of the agreement between the North and the wildlings who hadn't returned beyond the wall was they would get no help from the crown, in exchange for not bending the knee to the Queen in the North.

"Have you brought this matter to the Queen? I believe similar reports have been made of young women disappearing"

The man's face curled in distaste "Your Queen's got no time for us. I hear girls are going missing from your own villages and nothing's been done about it"

"What makes you think these girls have been taken? Free folk like to roam, do they not? Perhaps they have returned beyond the wall" asked Tyrion from his seat in the great hall.

Since becoming lord of Winterfell two weeks ago there'd been no end of work or people wanting his help. The walls were lined with petitioners to see him, and many were grumbling that he had agreed to see a wildling in the first place. The man had obviously traveled a long way to get help, and Tyrion thought the least he could do was hear him out.

"They wouldn't do that. Those that stayed were happy at the gift. We had our own community but it's not safe there no more. Most of our men died fighting or went back with Tormund - those that's left are mostly women, children or cripples"

"There have been reports locally of a few girls going missing, though hardly enough to cause major concern - it's possible they've left of their own free will" explained Tyrion "How many women would you say have been taken?"

"A few dozen women. Some as young as four and ten" said the old man, despair twisting his face "Please help me find my granddaughter. I'll bend the knee myself and call you m'lord if I must"

Tyrion considered the man before him. The wildlings valued their freedom and hated 'kneelers' yet the old man was willing to sacrifice that for his family.

"That won't be necessary" said Tyrion decisively "I will investigate these reports. If women are indeed being taken, the perpetrators will be brought to justice"

"Thank you" said the old man, sagging with relief

"Where are you staying?"

"There's a forest not far from here"

The man was far too old to be staying out in the open, and Tyrion would need him to help direct his search.

"What is your name?"

"They call me Deke"

"Maester Wolkan will give you a letter bearing my name to take to the inn at the village outside these walls. They will provide you with food and shelter while I investigate. Though I will not ask you to bend the knee, I will ask you keep the Queen's peace throughout your stay. It is likely I will require your help to narrow the search, if you are amenable?"

Gratitude welled in Deke's eyes "You have my word and my thanks. I will do whatever I can to help"

The petitioners in the hall grumbled at his decision, but Tyrion knew it was the right one. Turning away the old man who had come this far on his own knowing he would be poorly received would have been heartless, and despite his many faults even Tyrion couldn't be that cruel. Truthfully, it was more a matter for the Queen than the Lord of Winterfell, and Tyrion would seek her approval before proceeding. He certainly didn't want to overstep his bounds or authority, but Sansa was likely too busy to handle every single issue that came before her.

* * *

It took all of Arya's willpower to not interrupt Sansa when she saw her sister and Robin Flint sharing a drink together in the great hall. The young lord was regaling Sansa with some kind of tale and her sister was smiling as she drank her wine. Dinner had finished a while ago and Arya had escaped as soon as possible, though her sister apparently hadn't left despite the hall now being empty. With the rest of the lords and their guards returning to their own keep the head table now only comprised herself, Sansa, Tyrion, Gawan and Robin which made dinner incredibly awkward. Arya knew her sister had no romantic interest in Robin Flint or Gawan Glover, but she continued to pander to their needs and indulge them. The Queen in the North had a duty to keep her banner men happy; or so her sister had told her when confronted about it. Both of the young men ignored Arya most of the time during dinner but would make sly digs at Tyrion, which Sansa chose to ignore. It infuriated Arya to no end that she would let them disrespect her husband like that, not that Tyrion made any complaint - he seemed resigned to the jokes.

Her sister drinking with Robin wasn't romantic - she was certain Sansa thought of it as a business meeting and nothing more but it annoyed her none the less. Tearing her gaze from the Queen and the young lord who both sat laughing and drinking, Arya went off in search of Tyrion. The hour was late but she was fairly certain of his whereabouts. True to form, the lord of Winterfell was holed up in the library, maps and books spread around him like a child as he sat on the floor.

"Do you sleep in here?" she asked, plopping to the ground beside him

"I tried but the floor is too hard" Tyrion said, turning his eyes from the map to look at her.

"Do you sleep at all?"

"Why sleep when there are so many things to do?"

Arya didn't bother arguing. She could tell from his worn out face he rarely slept, but there was only so much she could do.

"Your wife is drinking with Robin in the great hall" she said, gauging his reaction

"I know, he asked for a private audience after you left"

"Doesn't it bother you? She's drinking and you're working"

"Of course not - I want Sansa to be happy" said Tyrion, smiling sadly "besides I don't mind working"

Arya sighed, leaning forwards to look at the maps.

"What are you working on anyway?" she asked. Tyrion appeared to be examining historical maps of the North, particularly around the gift and Winterfell.

His face brightened at her interest and he quickly began explaining "I've been investigating the disappearances of the wildling women and the villages near Winterfell. I do believe it's the same group abducting the women"

"So they are being taken?" asked Arya, a frown crossing her face

"It's hard to say - but all the women are young and seemed to have vanished without a trace"

"I'd heard a couple of rumours of women disappearing in the village but they seemed pretty isolated"

"Yes, I think that's the point. If you look at the maps the disappearances always seem to happen somewhere near the edge of the village. I can't really speak for the wildling disappearances but from my conversations with Deke, they seem to follow a similar pattern. The women in question are either found alone or lured away and are not seen again"

"Any idea who's behind it?" asked Arya, brow furrowing. If Tyrion was right this was a serious problem.

"None at all, I'm afraid. I'm planning to send some of the Winterfell guards into the villages in disguise to keep an eye out. Hopefully if we can catch one of the abductors, we will learn more. I'll ask the Queen for her approval tomorrow"

"Good plan" said Arya, nodding in approval "Is Sansa not concerned about this?"

"Well she's rather busy" said Tyrion, dropping his gaze "I asked her if I could look into the matter on her behalf and she said yes"

"Let me know if you need anything - I'm happy to help you"

"Thank you" he said, the smile on his face fading "I'm sorry - I've kept you far longer than you probably wanted. I'm sure you've better things to be doing than listening to me"

Arya's heart constricted as she looked at Tyrion and all his work spread before him. He'd clearly spent a lot of time working on this when it should have been a problem for the Queen to address. As far as Arya was concerned, Sansa should be giving her attention to her husband not wasting her time with arrogant young lords.

"I can't think of one thing I'd rather be doing" she said, pointing to the maps once more "I don't think I know some of these routes"

Interest sparked in his eyes once more as he looked to where she was pointing "After looking over a lot of the old maps and the newer ones I believe there are several roads throughout the forests and surrounding areas that are quite forgotten"

"How would they be forgotten? I grew up near here and never found any of these routes"

"Heavy snowfall, battles, whatever you can think of has likely obscured parts of the trails, but I'm certain many of them still exist. The newer maps show evidence of them, though the landscape around some of the routes has changed"

"Do you think whoever has taken the women has been using these trails?" asked Arya, studying the maps

"Unlikely. I'm only assuming the existence of some of them, and much of my research is based on the extensive library you have" he said, pointing to a patch of rocks leading west from Winterfell towards bear island "This one here, I'm certain exists. From what I can gather the rock formation here used to be a tunnel but heavy winters likely blocked the entrance and exit for many years and it's been forgotten. With the improving weather it might be possible to find it again"

_'Sansa should be here sharing this with you'_ she thought, seeing the corners of his mouth turn upwards as he carried on explaining his theory.

"When the weathers better, we should go check it out" Arya said clapping her hands together "I refuse to believe there's a path near Winterfell I haven't explored"

"I'm certain the path is there" said Tyrion, mischief in his eyes "finding it before you will be very satisfying"

* * *

"Your Grace would you care to join me for a ride tomorrow? I'm leaving soon on business and I'd be honoured to spend my last day at Winterfell with you" offered Gawan, over dinner one evening

Despite herself, Sansa felt her cheeks warm at the invitation. It had been a long time since she'd left the castle after all. A moon turn had passed since the rest of her council left and now Gawan was going to. Although she had no romantic feelings for either of the young lords, she appreciated their gallantry towards her none the less. It helped to ease the fear of men her past had left her with; trusting was necessary for her to recover after all.

"I would be honoured my lord, though I fear l have far too much work that requires attention" she said, looking at him regretfully

"If you wish to go" said Tyrion, fiddling with his fork "I can handle your work tomorrow"

"You don't mind?" she asked, glancing at her husband sat beside her

"It's no bother"

"Rest assured your Grace, I'll happily assist Lord Tyrion tomorrow in fulfilling your duties" added Robin smiling at her "Ruling can be a burden - you deserve a moment to enjoy yourself"

Sansa clutched her cup tightly, uneasy at the prospect of being alone with the young lord Glover but she had to maintain appearances and he was the heir to Deepwood Motte. Building a good working relationship with him now could prove useful in the future and it would give her the chance to leave Winterfell for a little while.

"In that case I would be pleased to accept your invitation my lord" said Sansa, offering a smile at Gawan who grinned in return.

Arya's gaze was burning into her but Sansa had no idea why she was annoyed. This wasn't leisure; it was politics.

* * *

Tyrion trudged through the snow across the courtyard to find Sansa and Gawan preparing for the ride - a couple of the Winterfell guard and Gawan's personal guards would accompany them for protection.

Sansa looked stunning in her dark grey riding gear, as a young boy hurried to saddle her snow white horse. Her fiery red hair stood out vividly against the wintery colours and Tyrion was rather captivated by the sight.

_'She is truly a Queen'_ he thought, sadness filling him_ 'that's why she can never love me. Sooner or later she will want me gone and I will go. I won't stand in the way of her happiness'_

In spite of his thoughts on the matter, Sansa's face lit up as he approached.

"You came to see me off?" she asked, blue eyes gazing warmly at him

"Well… yes…I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed" said Tyrion, glancing around the courtyard

"Are you ready, your Grace?" asked Gawan, appearing behind Sansa. The young lord smirked at Tyrion over her shoulder as the horses were readied.

"Almost" said Sansa stepping forwards and reaching towards Tyrion.

He didn't resist as she caught his arm, pulling him into a kiss - though his face burned at the eyes of the courtyard watching them. Gawan's face twisted into a look of disgust at the action, but he hid it before Sansa could notice.

"The North is yours my lord- I'll see you tonight" Sansa whispered, accepting Gawan's hand as she swung on to the horse

"Don't worry my lord, I'll take very good care of your wife" said Gawan, pushing past Tyrion to his own horse

Tyrion raised his hand in farewell as they rode out of the courtyard, though bitterness crept through him. He disliked Gawan but the young lord was still a lot more suited to being Sansa's husband than he was. If he was a better man; if he wasn't a dwarf - maybe he would deserve the love of a woman like Sansa. It was foolish thinking though. No-one had every truly loved him; they tolerated him at best or until their own needs were fulfilled. As resigned to his fate as he was, Tyrion couldn't help craving that which had always been denied him no matter how impossible it was. He should just be grateful Sansa took him into her home in the first place; she could have easily left him to the executioner in Kings Landing.

* * *

Sansa relished the cool Northern breeze blowing through her fiery hair as her horse trotted through the forest next to Gawan's. It had been far too long since she'd left Winterfell and its responsibilities behind. Having said that, the company could have been better.

Though Gawan had tried his best to be the gallant gentleman, a petulant child lurked beneath the thin mask and her mind kept wandering back to Joffrey. The young lord had so far presented her with two rabbits he'd killed for their mid-day meal. It wasn't the hunting that bothered Sansa - it was a necessary part of survival across Westeros and a sport for most men. Yet even Sansa could see the deaths hadn't been clean for the rabbits. Their legs were twisted as if snapped and the knife wounds on them looked as if they'd been carved into. The Queen in the North hadn't seen him kill the rabbits. So as Gawan showed off his trophies she praised him for his hunting skills even as her stomach turned.

Ramsay had liked hunting and knives as well.

* * *

Tyrion eyed Robin Flint warily. The young lord had been unexpectedly helpful all day, offering his own opinion on matters respectfully and deferring to Tyrion's authority as lord of Winterfell. Now they sat with Maester Wolkan in the room Sansa used for meetings, going through the day's business, and Robin appeared to be listening intently.

"Progress has been made on the trade deal with Dorne and Lord Manderly's latest letter suggests it could be finalised soon" said Maester Wolkan, shuffling through the papers in front of him

"Has anyone started securing a trade deal with Highgarden?" asked Robin, tilting his head to one side

"Due to the change in lords at Highgarden that may take some time to negotiate" explained Maester Wolkan "Ser Bronn was given Highgarden originally, but as it is the most prominent food supply in Westeros it needed a more experienced hand to run it effectively, so King Bran has given him the Twins in exchange"

Tyrion sighed; trust Bronn to get two castles instead of one and much less work.

"That is a shame, lord Tyrion is friends with Ser Bronn after all. If he'd been the lord of Highgarden we might have got a better deal from him" said Robin, glancing at Tyrion

"Unlikely" said Tyrion, a twinge of sadness going through him "he was my paid sellsword, though I'm not convinced he really considered me a friend. Doubtless he would be as ruthless in negotiations as he is with a sword"

"In that case it may be for the best" said Robin nodding

"Well I believe that is all the updates for today, my lords" said Maester Wolkan "Unless you have any business to discuss?"

Robin Flint leaned back in his seat staring at Tyrion "Actually, I've heard disturbing rumours of girls going missing and I know the Queen has been very busy. Is anything being done to address this?"

"Why yes, my lord – I believe the Queen delegated the matter to lord Tyrion" said the Maester

Tyrion nodded in confirmation "I've been looking into reports of the girls going missing, it's certainly a troubling sign"

"Do you have any leads? If these girls are being taken the culprits must be stopped before this problem gets worse" said Robin, face tightening

"Personally I think it's someone with considerable resources behind them. They leave no evidence and appear to operate efficiently" said Tyrion, his mind wandering through the countless hours he'd spent reading reports and pouring over maps on this matter

Robin let out a breath "That is unfortunate – the last thing we need is a crisis in the North. I know Gawan has a young sister and I'd hate to think of girls her age being hurt. The North has suffered enough"

Tyrion's brow furrowed at the young lords interest. For every council meeting Tyrion had been to, Robin had seemed every bit as disinterested as Gawan, yet today he'd been nothing but helpful.

"I don't suppose you've heard of any recent cases that could help?" asked Tyrion

"I'm afraid not, but I must congratulate you on your diligent work lord Tyrion. The Queen is certainly lucky to have your help"

"Most certainly" agreed Maester Wolkan, as Tyrion's face burned at the praise.

Today had certainly not gone as he suspected. He'd imagined the day would be spent listening to insults from Robin Flint, yet Tyrion couldn't fault his work ethic. He'd acted every bit the lord of Widows Watch and it was yet another reminder of his own inadequacy. Sansa might have been happier with this handsome young lord at her side, despite his own misgivings about the man.

* * *

"I wish you safe travels, my lord" said Sansa in the courtyard as Gawan Glover prepared to leave the day after their ride. Tyrion, Arya and Robin stood beside her as the Winterfell household came out to see him off.

"Thank you for your hospitality, your Grace. I hope to see you again soon" called Gawan, sat atop his horse. With a final wave he led his small party out through the gates of Winterfell and Sansa felt another loss.

Though she didn't particularly like Gawan, the castle grew emptier every day and the crown seemed to weigh more than ever. Without thinking, she reached down finding Tyrion's hand and clutching it tightly. He glanced up at her in surprise, but didn't pull his hand away. Her husband wouldn't leave. If everyone else abandoned her, Tyrion was hers and his place was with Sansa now.

"Sansa, are you happy?" asked Arya as they sat in the Godswood. A light sprinkling of snow covered the ground as the daylight dwindled.

"Of course I am" she answered, admiring the wintery colours that were slowly giving way to spring

"You're happy being Queen of the North?" pressed Arya

"It's a great honour"

"You don't regret it? You don't think it's changed you?"

Sansa exhaled a long breath "What are you getting at Arya? Do you think I'm doing a poor job?"

Arya held her hands up in surrender "Of course not, I'm just worried Sansa. You've been through a lot and you don't seem to be healing from it"

"What do you mean? I made peace with my past the moment Ramsay Bolton was eaten by his own hounds – and when littlefinger was dealt with"

"You're not like you used to be though"

"Neither are you" said Sansa with a snort "we all have to grow up sometime"

"You're a lot colder these days"

Sansa huffed "I've learnt how to play the game, and I'll never be a victim again"

Arya moved from her place beside Sansa until she was looking her in the face "I know we've never been close, but you can talk to me about anything you know? I promise I'll listen and help you as best I can"

"I appreciate that Arya" said Sansa, softening her tone "You're worried for nothing though. I may be the Queen in the North but I'm still Sansa Stark"

"I know that Sansa, I just don't want you to forget it" said Arya, grey eyes watching her in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Bran.

* * *

It was six weeks into his role as lord of Winterfell that Tyrion went into the nearby village to check the progress of reconstruction. Nessa accompanied him, skipping along at his side in the early afternoon sun. It had snowed on and off for the past week, covering the ground in a thick layer that crunched under foot.

"What do you think Nessa?" asked Tyrion, gesturing to the newly clad houses that lined the street

"They look loads better" she enthused gazing around the village

"Are they warmer?" he asked

"Yeah, my little brother doesn't shiver so much anymore"

"Well that's good to hear" said Tyrion, continuing towards the inn

They'd called in to visit with Esther earlier as Tyrion now made a point of doing regularly. Fortunately, the old woman had grown fond of Nessa too and his squire now called on her when Tyrion couldn't. At the very least the seamstress now had two people visiting her regularly and she always seemed pleased to see them. They'd wandered through the village for much longer than he'd intended with Nessa pointing out various people she knew and the small folk stopping to chat with him. The building work had gone quickly under Alec's command and already the people were better protected from the elements.

"I believe you can finish your duties for the day, my dear" he said after a few minutes longer of walking

Nessa frowned up at him "You don't need me anymore?"

"I'm only calling to see Deke at the inn then going back for dinner. There's nothing I need you to do today, and we're close to your home are we not?" he explained. Although Nessa knew of the missing girls he was reluctant to expose her to more of the issue than need be - he didn't want to worry her.

"Ok" she said glumly, before brightening "Will you come meet my Mother?"

Tyrion shifted uneasily "Your mother isn't in the best of the health, I'm sure she wouldn't want a visitor"

"Don't worry, she'll be happy to meet you!" chirped Nessa, turning her big eyes on him "I tell her all about you"

"Oh dear"

Nessa laughed "I tell her good things"

"Very well, but it will only be a quick visit" he relented, unable to disappoint her

Eagerly she grabbed his hand tugging him off in the direction of her house. Although Nessa often spoke of her mother and little brother, Tyrion had never met them. He knew only the woman had frail health and her son was only just toddling around. He found it hard to refuse the young girl; he'd always assumed his appearance frightened children but Nessa never seemed to be bothered by it. Tyrion would be lying if he said her warmth towards him didn't bring back memories of Tommen and Myrcella. He'd loved his nephew and niece dearly, and mourned their loss almost as much as Jamie's.

The house she led him to was small and worn, though Tyrion was pleased to see it had been cladded as part of the rebuilding to protect against the cold.

"Mother, I'm home" called Nessa knocking on the door as Tyrion hung back

A bolt opened and a sickly thin, middle aged woman appeared in the doorway. She moved slowly as if she was in constant discomfort, but her smile was full of love as she hugged her daughter.

"Hello sweetheart, you're home early" she said, stroking her hair

"I finished for the day" said Nessa eagerly returning the hug

Watching the interaction, Tyrion felt a sudden longing for something he never had; a mother's love.

"I brought Tyrion" Nessa exclaimed, pointing towards him

"Hello" he said, fiddling with his sleeves

The woman stood in the doorway, bowing her head "It's a pleasure to meet you my lord"

"The pleasure is mine" he said offering her a smile as he moved towards her.

"Would you like to come inside? It's rather cold out here" she offered, smiling warmly at him

"No, thank you. I must be on my way soon"

"Already?" pouted Nessa

"Perhaps you should fetch your brother to say hello?" suggested the mother, causing Nessa to dash off in search of the child

"I must thank you my lord; you've been incredibly kind to Nessa and our family" she said when they were alone

"Not at all. Nessa is a great help to me, it's only right I repay the debt"

The woman looked at him with a knowing smile "Do you teach all your servants to read Lord Tyrion?"

"She already knew a few words" he said, shaking his head "Though I do believe I promoted Nessa to squire. She's far too clever to be a servant"

"My daughter adores you"

Tyrion's face grew red at the words "I certainly don't deserve it"

Nessa's mother shook her long dark hair in disagreement "You sent your Maester to heal me when I was ill even though it wasn't your responsibility. You are always welcome here my lord. If there is anything you ever need, please let me know"

A lump formed in Tyrion's throat at the woman's kindness. This family had little for themselves, but were still willing to offer whatever they had to him.

"Here's Ethan" called Nessa, emerging from the house. In her skinny arms squirmed a boy of around two, with messy dark hair like his sister.

"Hello Ethan" said Tyrion gently as Nessa set the boy down in front of him.

Big brown eyes gazed at him and Tyrion's nerves intensified. He was well aware he appeared frightening to children; Cersei had often told him such.

"This is Tyrion" said Nessa into her brother's ear

The boy stared at him a moment longer before a grin split his face.

"Ty'ion" he said pointing a chubby finger towards him

"Aren't you a clever lad?" said Tyrion smiling at the boy

"I read to him every night from the book you gave me" said Nessa, nodding solemnly

"That is good to hear"

"She reads to all of us" said the mother, smiling fondly at her children "Are you sure you won't join us for a meal lord Tyrion?"

He wanted to. Just for a moment he wanted to pretend he'd been born into a kind, loving family like this one. Despite her frailty the woman exuded such a deep love for her children, her body's weakness seemed trivial in comparison.

Before he could reject the kind offer, chubby arms wrapped around his leg as Ethan gazed up at him "Ty'ion stay?"

He glanced uncertainly at the three beaming faces, his resolve crumbling "I suppose...if it won't bother you..."

Tyrion didn't have chance to finish his sentence as Nessa's mother grasped his arm leading him inside their home "We would be honoured my lord"

"You can call me Tyrion" he said "I don't feel much like a lord these days"

"As you wish" she said patting his arm "my name is Tess"

He knew it was selfish to allow this family to treat him so generously - who knew what Nessa had been telling them for her family to hold him in such esteem. Even so, the prospect of feeling the warmth of a family was simply too hard to pass up. Tyrion knew he didn't deserve any of this, but just for a moment he would let himself enjoy it.

* * *

All day Arya sat in the great hall watching.

All morning she watched Tyrion hold court as the lord of Winterfell, hearing from small folk, minor lords and farmers alike. The queue to see him was long, but Tyrion didn't rush; taking his time to hear each person before making a decision. He was reasonable, fair and approachable.

All afternoon she watched Sansa hold court as the Queen in the North. The queue to see her was also long, most of the petitions she heard were representatives from strong Northern houses and occasionally from the more prominent farmers and merchants. She was strong, decisive and proud.

Arya repeated her observation over several days. Each time her views altered; more truth being revealed to her. Sansa was nervous of the lords before her, she wanted to be in control; court for her was a power struggle. Tyrion doubted his decisions, he had little self-confidence; court was a chance for redemption.

Sat across the high table from Sansa and Tyrion one evening, Arya observed them during dinner. Her sister was possessive of her husband; her attempts at affection appeared cold and controlling. Tyrion doubted his relationship with Sansa; fuelled by his own self-loathing and insecurities.

The more Arya had observed them, the more she had learnt. The wolf and the lion. Only now, Arya wasn't sure which was which.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Tyrion stood on the bottom of the fence, leaning over the top as he threw some meat into the kennels. The hounds rushed around the food, eagerly devouring it.

"Don't they make ya nervous, boy?" asked Emory, cleaning out the kennel away from the hounds

Tyrion was hardly a boy or even close to that age, but given how elderly Emory was he supposed it made sense.

"Why would they? All castles have hounds"

"Aye, but your wife fed her last husband to the dogs"

Tyrion eyed the hounds warily "These hounds?"

Emory barked out a short laugh "No! Queen had them destroyed; the Bolton bastard had them far too vicious"

"That's good" said Tyrion, breathing out a sigh of relief "it was still a kinder fate than the bastard deserved"

"Don't reckon you'll get to fed the hounds"

"I can think of better ways to go"

Tyrion continued feeding the hounds and started to help Emory throw fresh hay into the area. Despite the kennel masters advanced age he didn't shy away from any work and Tyrion found him interesting company.

"You're a strange lord" said Emory, stretching up and cracking his back

"Have you only now realised I'm a dwarf?"

"I don't give a shit if you're a dwarf. Ain't many lords who'd dirty their hands helping the likes of me"

"I don't really think of myself as a lord anymore" said Tyrion "I never helped the small folk at Casterly Rock - I was taught it was below my station. Yet when I came to Winterfell, Lord Stark looked after everyone from the highborn to the small folk; I respected that"

"He was a good lord" agreed Emory

"I never really liked how my family treated the small folk. They're only small folk as a circumstance of birth. My father always told me how grateful I should be I was born a Lannister. If I'd been born to a poor family I'd have been left outside to die" said Tyrion, bitterness twinging his tone

The kennel master snorted turning to look at Tyrion "Your father was full of shit, boy. Way I see it poor folks treat their children better than half these lords and ladies. You're a right example of that"

Tyrion's mind drifted to Nessa and her family. It was hard to imagine her mother Tess throwing out her children if they'd been born like him.

"I do believe you're right"

"Too right, I am. The Starks were good lords - well-liked by the people, as you say. Queen's not so liked by the small folk"

"She's suffered a lot in her life and the crown is a heavy burden" said Tyrion

"Aye, reckon she's still getting used to it. You're a good lord of Winterfell though" said Emory tossing a stack of hay at him, nearly knocking him off his feet "Not a bad kennel boy either!"

* * *

"Maester Wolkan, what business is the most pressing to deal with today?" asked Sansa, taking her seat at the head of the table. The chamber she used for council meetings seemed so much larger now there was so few of them. Eventually Robin and Arya would both leave and it would be emptier still - the thought sent a wave of tension through her.

Although her council had all left, apart from Robin Flint, she found a regular meeting each week between herself, Arya, Tyrion, Robin and the Maester was useful. Her own days were filled with work and she knew Tyrion worked just as hard. This weekly meeting was the easiest way to keep everyone apprised of progress and what needed to be done moving forwards.

"Well your Grace, the trade deal with Dorne has been finalised and talks with Highgarden are set to begin soon. The issue of a border between the North and the six kingdoms of Westeros is still in negotiation with the Kings Hand, Ser Davos Seaworth. Locally, the main issue is filling empty seats and improving the economy. Bear Island for example has been empty for quite some time as has the Last Hearth, The Dreadfort and Karhold"

"All are major seats to fill" noted Robin "you will want loyal people to take control of those keeps"

"With so many Northern families killed during the war there are few choices for these seats" said Sansa, the beginnings of a headache forming

Sansa's attention drifted as Maester Wolkan and Robin continued discussing the possibilities for filling the seats. Arya rarely contributed during these meetings but had developed a peculiar habit of staring at her, which left Sansa distinctly uncomfortable. Tyrion tended to sit quietly unless you asked him something, which in many ways irritated her. She didn't understand why he had such an issue expressing his opinion now when he never hesitated in the past.

"Has there been any progress on the missing girls?" asked Arya loudly. Looking at her sister, Sansa could see she'd gotten bored of the previous conversation and changed the subject. Arya had her feet on the table, twirling a dagger through her fingers. Sansa sighed; time and again she'd told her sister meetings were not the place for weapons.

"Lord Tyrion, you were dealing with that issue?" said Robin, turning the attention to him

"Deke has had news from the Gift saying two more women have been taken. No-one saw the abduction, though a cart was seen traveling not far from the area in a south west direction. Unfortunately, the free folk there are quite poorly defended as most of their fighting men and spear wives went North with Tormund. That whole area of the North is rather empty until you reach Deepwood Motte or Winterfell" explained Tyrion, tapping his fingers against the table as he spoke

"Is there nothing we can do about it?" asked Robin, looking imploringly at Sansa

Truthfully she had far more important things to do than help the free folk. They wouldn't bend the knee so were not really her subjects nor were they under her protection. However, Tyrion had asked her permission to help based on the few cases of girls going missing from the villages that surrounded Winterfell. He seemed to think there was a connection and Sansa had been more than happy to let him handle it – one less thing for her to worry about.

"What are you going to do about it Sansa?" questioned Arya, eyebrows raised "Surely the situation has escalated enough to gain your attention?"

"I deferred this issue to lord Tyrion" she said mouth tightening, before turning to her husband "you may take any action you deem necessary"

"Thank you, your Grace" he said "I intend to send out some patrols towards the Gift. That seems to be where the majority of abductions are happening and the best chance of catching them is having a presence in the area. Although they were seen travelling south west the area is far too large to search or patrol effectively. Better to maintain a presence close to the villages"

"Very good" she said, brushing his arm. Sansa liked it when Tyrion contributed to their meetings. His sharp mind was well suited to ruling and she valued his input above all others. Aside from that he was a great help in handling the small folk and that at least gave her more time to handle other matters.

Unfortunately, there was no end of issues to be dealt with and the responsibility ultimately fell on her shoulders. She didn't expect Arya to understand, but she had to prioritise. Securing the North's protection and trade deals was at the forefront of her mind. Perhaps when the major issues were handled she would have time to help the small folk, but until then her focus was elsewhere.

"Is that all for today?" said Sansa, weariness settling over her

Robin Flint straightened in his chair "Actually your Grace, I was going to ask your permission to leave for a hunting trip. Gawan invited me to meet him in a few days' time, but I'm worried about leaving you with so many issues at the moment"

Sansa smiled at his thoughtfulness "Please, go and enjoy yourself. Your help and support has been invaluable, it would please me greatly to know you were having a break"

"Are you sure, your Grace?" he said, looking torn "I'll happily remain by your side if you wish"

"Of course my lord" said Sansa, ignoring Arya's grimacing face "please send my regards to lord Gawan"

"Rest assured, your Grace I will be gone no longer than a moon turn and then I will return to assist you for a bit longer if it's all the same to you"

Sansa smiled "In that case I wish you a safe trip, my lord. I look forward to your return"

* * *

Steel clashed as Tyrion blocked Lyle's strike before retaliating with one of his own. Against his better judgement he'd continued to let Cayn teach him how to fight with a sword, which Lyle and Alec had eagerly joined in with upon their return from the village. The men had taken turns showing him different things, and after six weeks of drills he'd let himself get talked into some 'light' sparring. They only used blunt practice weapons but they were still capable of a nasty whack and Tyrion had certainly received a few over the last couple of sessions.

"Lyle, watch your footwork" called out Alec, observing from the side-lines

The young man quickly adjusted his feet, striking twice at Tyrion in rapid succession. He blocked the first and barely dodged the second, stumbling to the side out of reach. His own sword was shorter and lighter than the standard swords used by the guards. He'd practiced hitting the training dummy with it enough over the past few moon turns that the weapon was familiar in his hand. They continued to trade blows, Lyle dealing a painful strike to his hand, but Tyrion managed to keep hold of the sword.

"Go on Tyrion!" said Cayn, keen to see someone best his brother. True to their word, the men he trained with had all taken it easy on him when he first joined them for drills until he grew used to the training. Gradually they had increased the tempo, pushing him harder until he was comfortable enough to try sparring. He would never be as skilled as they were, but there was a certain thrill to the training and Tyrion found he didn't mind the bruises he ended up with.

Raising his sword high, Lyle brought the weapon down towards Tyrion's head giving him the opening he wanted. Raising his own weapon high, Tyrion deflected the blade as he stepped close to Lyle, quickly bringing it around to smack him across the stomach with the flat of the blade. Winded by the blow Lyle blindly swung his sword narrowly missing Tyrion's head as he brought his own weapon round in an arc catching Lyle across the back of the ankles and sending him flying.

The young man landed flat on his back, sword clattering across the yard as Tyrion planted his own sword at his throat.

"Dead?" said Tyrion, mouth twitching upwards

"Dead" agreed Lyle, lying on the ground

Tyrion lowered his sword, offering Lyle a hand up.

"You're a right sneaky sod" said Lyle grinning as he regained his feet "most people would have gone for my head"

"I'd have had to jump for it" said Tyrion, smiling in return

"Good match" said Alec as they headed over to the group

"That was beautiful to watch" said Cayn, throwing his arm around Tyrion "You'll have to explain how you beat him so I can do it too"

"I got lucky" said Tyrion, face reddening

"I wasn't going easy on you" said Lyle, collapsing onto the crates beside Brice

"He won 'cause he's clever" said Brice with a snort "You expected him to fight like every other bloke"

"Brice is right" said Alec, turning to Tyrion "Why do you really think you won?"

Tyrion considered his answer. Alec would often pose these reflective questions to them all as a way of evaluating their actions. In many ways, Tyrion found fighting was about tactics rather than brute strength and he knew the men would not accept luck as an answer no matter how much Tyrion believed it to be so.

"Well" he started, tilting his head to one side "Lyle is taller, stronger and much more experienced than me. It doesn't take him much effort to strike downwards at my head, but it would take a lot of effort for me to strike upwards at his head - and he would see it coming. So I struck at the targets closer to me"

"Exactly" agreed Alec, turning to Lyle and Cayn "You can't expect every opponent to fight the way you do. Sellswords won't fight like men trained by a master of arms, mercenaries or those from across the narrow sea won't fight like us. Men with injuries or physical weaknesses will adapt, and you need to adapt too"

"Expect the unexpected - got it" said Lyle stretching out on the crate "I'll beat you next time Tyrion!"

Cayn pouted "Hey, it's my turn next time. We could go now Tyrion?"

"Next time" said Tyrion, rolling his sore shoulders "I'm rather exhausted after that"

"Might give the lad more of a chance" said Brice, smacking Cayn on the back

The men continued to banter and Tyrion took his place on the crate to watch Brice and Alec spar. No matter how long his father had been dead, part of him still feared being scolded like a naughty child for training in arms. The rest of him however, enjoyed doing something he'd longed to do since he was a boy. A pang of sadness went through him that Jamie wasn't here to see it - his brother would have been proud of him even if Cersei and their father weren't.

* * *

Sansa eyed her unused needlework supplies in the corner of her room. She was sat at the desk with piles of letters spread out before her that seemed to be never-ending. She'd loved needlework as a girl; the repetitive motions were soothing and she enjoyed making her own clothes. Her role as Queen of the North didn't allow her the luxury of pursuing her childhood hobby however; she'd tried a few weeks ago but found herself unable to relax. There were piles of correspondence to go through and she was reluctant to delegate it to anyone else. Robin had left a few days ago and she had one less friendly ear to turn to for advice as she sorted through the work. As Queen she needed to know what was going on; Kings Landing had taught her what could happen if you weren't in control. Neither King Robert nor Joffrey had any interest in the affairs of the realm and it had opened the gates for opportunists like littlefinger and led the crown into huge debt. The North would not be led like that.

Glancing at a letter from Lord Robett Glover, Sansa's insides twisted. Most of the message was standard business but there was one line that bothered her:

_I look forward to news of an heir soon._

She'd hoped her and Tyrion would have conceived on their wedding night as her mother had done, but that was not to be and they hadn't repeated the act since. Sweat trickled down her spine as she added the letter to a pile. Lord Manderly and several other houses had made similar comments in their correspondence over the past few weeks and anxiety wound through her. If she did not fall pregnant soon, would the lords and ladies of the North think her barren? Sansa gripped the side of her chair; possible outcomes flashing through her mind. Would they insist on her marrying someone else if she didn't fall pregnant? No, they couldn't do that - the marriage to Tyrion was consummated. Logic and fear warred within Sansa, causing her heart to race.

Tyrion seemed terrified of coming close to her - he never came to bed until it was late and Sansa was already asleep, and was gone before she woke in the morning. She knew he hadn't enjoyed their wedding night, but this was their duty. Sansa had allowed him plenty of space since their wedding but this was as much his responsibility as it was hers. She had no idea why he was unwilling, but perhaps there was a way to make it easier for him?

_'All men are led by that thing between their legs'_ she recalled _'it does half their thinking for them'_

Her head pounded as the responsibilities and demands threatened to overwhelm her. She would have to bed her husband soon; the North needed an heir.

* * *

Tyrion wasn't entirely sure how his evening had gone from work to spending time with Sansa. They sat opposite the hearth which crackled cheerfully, warming the room and casting an orange glow around the area. After dinner, Sansa had asked him to join her in their room and had pulled him onto the long chaise beside her. She had chatted about her work and trivial things, at some point wrapping her arm around him and pulling him closer. He was utterly confounded by her behaviour. While Sansa made sure to show affection to him in public he was sure it was an act to maintain appearances. Tyrion had made peace with that, yet tonight she seemed determined to be close to him even without anyone watching. The faintest ember of hope dared to spark in his heart; was it possible she did care for him?

"You're very quiet" said Sansa, sipping her wine

"Sorry" he said, smiling at her "I'm not sure what to say"

She laughed lightly "That never used to stop you"

"I've learnt since then" he said, a blush tinging his cheeks "what would you like to talk about?"

Sansa was so warm tonight; more like the girl who'd believed in dashing knights and tales of heroes and less like the ice Queen experience had forced her to become.

"Well, you could tell me a story" she said, placing her cup down and sinking into the chair until her head rested on his shoulder

"What would you like to hear?" he asked, heat spreading through him

"Hmm" she said, tracing her fingers along his arm "Something about your childhood"

A lightness filled Tyrion as he told Sansa of the few happy childhood memories he had. Mostly they involved Jamie or a trick he pulled on Cersei. His wife laughed as he spoke, snuggling closer to him and for the first time in many months Tyrion felt happy. The ember of hope that had sparked at the beginning of the evening continued to grow. Perhaps, in time Sansa might care for him as he cared for her. It was still a foolish notion, but he found himself daring to dream it just a little.

They talked late into the evening, telling tales and enjoying each other's company. It was intimate and warm, and it was a connection Tyrion had craved his whole life.

"I think I should get ready for bed" said Sansa eventually, untangling herself from Tyrion and pressing a soft kiss to his mouth which he hesitantly returned.

Tyrion went to his own screen, changing into his nightshift. Hope had taken root in his heart that Sansa did care for him. They had probably spoken more tonight than the whole length of their marriage, and it had ignited a joy in Tyrion he feared he'd never experience again. Heading to the bed Tyrion saw Sansa already beneath the covers and he quickly climbed in next to her.

"Sleep well Sansa" he said, grinning at her before turning to extinguish the lights

A hand on his wrist stopped him "Hang on, I want to talk to you first"

"Of course" he said, letting her guide him to the mattress until they were both lying down facing each other

"I knew you'd be a great lord of Winterfell" she said, brushing a hand through his hair

"I'm glad one of us did"

"You're more than capable Tyrion. You're clever, fair and dutiful"

"Thank you" he said, mouth turning down. Why was she telling him this?

"There is one duty you still need to complete though" said Sansa "the North needs an heir Tyrion. I've given you time to adjust to the marriage and your role as lord, but we must complete this duty"

Coldness swept through Tyrion as if the Night King was in the room with them, extinguishing the embers of hope that had stirred to life that evening. This wonderful, intimate time he'd spent with Sansa hadn't been because she cared for him – it was to seduce him.

"Are you going to complete your duty?" asked Sansa, icy blue eyes watching him

"I'd rather we didn't" he said lowering his eyes from Sansa's expectant gaze

"We must do our duty" she said, tone brokering no argument "the North needs an heir"

"I… don't think I can" he said, voice thick. He couldn't do it. Not for duty; not even for Sansa.

"That's ok" she said with a sigh "just relax and let me handle it"

Tyrion didn't bother to resist as Sansa pushed him onto his back and straddled him once more. For a moment he'd allowed himself to dream that Sansa could possibly, one day love him, but it had all been an act.

Sansa leaned over him covering his face with soft kisses but he didn't respond to her advances. This was duty, not passion; there was no need for her to pretend anymore. She continued kissing him and stroking his face as her other hand found the hem of his shift and lifted it just above his private area.

"This will be over soon" she soothed leaning back to grasp hold of him.

Tyrion couldn't bear to watch as Sansa moved her delicate hand up and down his cock until he was at full attention. She quickly lowered herself onto him, her warm folds clamping tightly around his cock holding him prisoner. Despite the crushing pain that wrapped around his heart, his body betrayed him by joining Sansa's rhythm until the deed was done once more, a small moan escaping him as he finished.

Sansa slid off him after finding her own release, pulling his shift back in place and reaching for the furs at the bottom of the bed. She covered them both before lying on her side next to him once again.

"At least that's taken care of" Sansa said; as if she'd finished writing a letter.

"If you say so" said Tyrion, dropping his head away from her as she lay beside him.

"We don't need to sleep right away" Sansa said, a note of desperation creeping into her voice "we can talk some more if you'd like?"

"No, thank you"

Tyrion felt Sansa move to wrap her arms around him, and he quickly turned on his side away from her scooting to the edge of the bed where he normally slept.

"Tyrion?"

"I'm rather tired" he said, curling in on himself "Good night"

"Ok" she said after a moments pause "Good night Tyrion"

Tyrion kept his breathing as steady as possible until he was sure Sansa was asleep before he let the tears escape down his face.

_'Stupid dwarf'_ he though _'you know this is a marriage of duty not love'_

It had been utter foolishness to let himself think it could be anything else. He was a means to an end for Sansa, and while she might value his opinion and trust him as a lord she could never love him.

Tyrion cried for his own heart; broken far beyond repair. Mostly he cried for Sansa; the girl who had dreamed of romance and had the illusion shattered by his family. Joffrey broke her heart and stole her ability to trust; Tywin married her to an imp rather than the dashing knight she deserved. Cersei's influence was the clearest, though he doubted Sansa realised it. His sister had often given Jamie a taste of what he truly wanted as a way of manipulating him to do what she wanted – and Sansa had used the same tactic. Tonight Sansa had given Tyrion a taste of what real love could be and despite his years of experience he'd let himself fall for the illusion.

He couldn't blame Sansa. It broke his heart that her idea of marriage and bedding was based on manipulation and coercion, though it was a lesson she'd undoubtedly started to learn from Cersei. Tyrion wanted to be angry at how she used him, but he couldn't do it. It was his fault for hoping in the first place. Sansa Stark wasn't capable of loving him and he had to accept it.

Tyrion wiped his sleeve over his eyes and tried to settle down to sleep. He wouldn't dare to hope again; tonight had taught him a painful lesson. Although Sansa could never love him, Tyrion couldn't help but care for her. The root cause of her suffering was his family and Tyrion would spend the rest of his life trying to repay that debt to her. He'd do his best to be the lord of Winterfell and her husband, though he knew deep down he was inadequate for both roles. Sansa clearly had no problem taking him in the bed and he wouldn't resist anymore; he was hers to use however she liked. No matter what Arya or the kind people of Winterfell told him, Tyrion knew in his heart he was a prisoner and would be until the end of his days.

* * *

Sansa trembled as she stared at the breakfast on the table before her, stomach rolling at the sight of food. The memory of last night made bile crawl up her throat and more than once that morning she'd almost been physically sick. She knew the wedding night had hurt Tyrion, but the broken hearted look on his face as he lay listless beneath her last night haunted her every thought.

"Get this out of here!" she snapped to the serving girl, hovering on the outskirts of the room. The food was quickly removed and Sansa found herself alone in her chambers.

Somehow she'd gone too far this time, but she just wasn't sure what she'd done wrong. The evening had been lovely and Sansa had been thrilled to find the old Tyrion beneath the quiet, lost mask he'd worn since coming North. It had taken a while but gradually his guard had dropped as they talked and joked; a happy smile crossing his face as they traded childhood tales. She'd felt closer to her husband than she ever had before and when she kissed him he had tentatively kissed her back. A strange warmth had spread through her at his reaction to the kiss but it all changed when she brought up bedding. The connection that had developed between them evaporated instantly and once more she'd had to force him through the deed. Though he hadn't resisted last night, he certainly hadn't participated willingly either. It was a necessary part of their marriage; why did it upset him?

Sansa bit her lip considering his reaction. When it was done she'd reached out to hold him, wanting to enjoy the closeness they had shared earlier on but he'd turned his back to her, moving as far from his wife as possible. The rejection had stung and Sansa knew then she'd somehow hurt him deeply.

What she would give for her mother's guidance. Even her Septa or Margarey might have offered her advice on what to do. The only person in Winterfell she could speak to about this was Arya and that wasn't really an option. Her little sister was hardly a sympathetic ear and this was a personal matter.

Sighing, Sansa rose from the table and readied herself for the day. What's done is done. Tyrion would be fine, wouldn't he?

* * *

The sun was just beginning its descent in the sky when Arya made her way out of Winterfell, light snow crunching softly under foot.

"Arya, where are you taking me?" asked Tyrion, a few paces behind her

"You'll see when we get there" she said.

Dinner for the past two days had been a strange affair. Sansa had showered Tyrion with attention pulling him into conversations and brushing against him at every opportunity. The attention she was paying her husband might not have been so strange if Sansa hadn't largely ignored him since he came to Winterfell. Meanwhile Tyrion seemed more withdrawn than ever, enduring Sansa's affection with a barely hidden grimace.

Arya didn't need her faceless man training to see Sansa was consumed by guilt; a blind man could see it. What she didn't know was why, and she had every intention of finding out.

"Why are we at the practice yard?" asked Tyrion as they came to a stop

Arya withdrew needle pointing the blade at Tyrion "Why do you think?"

"You've finally had enough of me and decided to end it?"

"Nope"

"Your sister wants me gone so she can marry someone worthy of her"

"Wrong again"

Tyrion sighed "What do you want then?"

"To practice with my big brother" she said with a grin, gesturing for him to fetch his own weapon

Telling Tyrion he was family now and they weren't going to throw him out on a sudden whim was absolutely pointless; Arya knew she could tell him a thousand times and he'd still be sceptical. No matter how long he'd been at Winterfell, it was clear he still thought of it as a prison. Sadness swept through Arya at the thought; she'd hoped with time the melancholy that hung around him would lift but it had only deepened. However long it took, she would convince her brother this was his home and he wasn't a guest.

Deciding whether she should talk to Tyrion or Sansa first about whatever was going on between them had been an easy decision - Tyrion was far less annoying than her sister. Besides, she had no idea how to converse with Sansa and break through her ice Queen armour. Turning needle in her hand, Arya wished she could simply poke a hole through her sister's defences to find the real Sansa again. Before approaching her sister she would try Tyrion. Despite her previous offers to be a friendly ear for him, Tyrion had never taken her up on it so tonight it was time for a different tactic.

"Should I just surrender now?" he asked, returning to the centre of the yard, with the short practice sword he used

"I'm not going to hurt you" she said "though it has been a while since I poked a hole in someone"

"What a charming thought"

Tyrion looked unsure so Arya made the first move, darting forwards with a jab to his face. To his credit, Tyrion managed to block the quick strike retaliating with his own as they began to trade strikes and jabs at each other. Arya made sure to keep it light and playful; from what the guards had told her it had taken a lot of convincing for Tyrion to join in with them and she didn't want to damage what little confidence he had. Much to her surprise Tyrion kept good pace with her and she found herself upping the tempo to keep him at bay.

"You're quite good" she said, grinning in approval

"You're holding back" he said, mouth twitching upwards

"Not as much as I thought I would need to"

Arya found it easy to get lost in the water dance as she sparred with Tyrion, but that wasn't the purpose of tonight. Eventually, she took two quick steps to his closed side, striking his sword before sliding needle up to rest at his throat.

"Dead" he said, panting "You beat the dwarf - congratulations"

"I'll have you know I beat the lord of Winterfell" she said, lowering her needle

"Who taught you to fight like that? The Braavos sword style is unusual in Westeros"

"I'd tell you, but I won so I get to ask you a question" Arya said, circling around Tyrion while he recovered his breath

"Ah, so this is a game?"

"You are clever brother" Arya said, raising needle "First to score a strike anywhere, gets to ask a question of the other and you've got to answer as truthfully as possible. Deal?"

"Very well. What's your question?"

"Why don't you drink wine anymore?"

"I dried out in Kings Landing and lost the taste" he said with a shrug "if I started again now, I might never stop"

"Fair enough" said Arya, accepting the answer "Just wondered how you've been here so long and the wine stores aren't empty yet"

"Sansa seems equally shocked by my sobriety"

Arya shrugged "I never got a taste for wine. Ready to go?"

Swords clashed and Arya got the next question a few moments later after striking Tyrion's arm.

"How did you escape Kings Landing during your trial?" she asked

"Jamie freed me and forced Varys to aid my escape. I travelled across the narrow sea in a crate until I arrived in Pentos"

Arya's heart twisted at his words "You were in a crate all that time? It must have taken at least a week"

"Yes. Unable to get out or make a sound lest I be discovered. Shall we?"

Arya nodded raising needle in front of her. They traded strikes once more but her mind was whirling with new information. While she'd obviously known he'd escaped across the narrow sea, she'd never imagined how difficult the journey must have been. Arya knew about Shae – Sansa had told her everything, and it was common knowledge Tyrion killed his father. But the thought of being locked away in a dark, cramped space for at least a week without being able to talk, after killing two of the people closest to you made Arya's stomach roll.

"Got you" said Tyrion as his sword lightly hit her leg.

"So you did. What's your question?" said Arya, inwardly berating her lack of focus

"How did you evade my sister and escape Kings Landing? Everyone assumed you were dead"

"A man from the nights watch called Yoren was there when my father was killed. He stopped me seeing it and disguised me as a boy to escape. He was going to take me home"

Tyrion bowed his head slightly "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories"

Arya snorted "That's the whole point of this game"

"Reminds me of a drinking game I used to play"

They battled on with Arya winning several questions. So far she'd learnt;

Cersei hated him for killing their mother.

He missed Myrcella and Tommen a lot.

His favourite uncle disappeared across the narrow sea and had been presumed dead for years.

Yes, Joffrey had always been cruel.

Arya didn't want this to feel like an interrogation so she left herself open for Tyrion a few times to give him more of a chance – not that he needed much help. In return she'd confessed her childhood jealousy of her more beautiful sister, and killing Ser Meryn Trant in Braavos. Though Arya could have carried on all night quite happily, it was clear Tyrion was growing tired by his slower swings and clumsy footwork so she made her last few questions more pointed.

"Do you resent being exiled North?"

"No – it was far more lenient than I deserved"

"I think it was harsh"

"Bran should have taken my head"

"Don't say that Tyrion. You're my brother now"

The swords continued to sing in the dying light of the day as darkness crept over the practice yard.

"Are you afraid of Sansa?"

He tilted his head to the side, eyes downcast and for a moment Arya feared he wouldn't answer.

"No. I'm afraid of disappointing her" he said eventually

"You always seem nervous around her"

"She's a Queen and I'm an imp"

Arya placed needle back on her hip, approaching Tyrion. He was breathing heavily and she regretted keeping the sparring going so late. Arya knew he hardly ate or slept and the heavy exertion had clearly taken a toll.

"Tyrion, I've told you before you can talk to me. I know something's happened between you and Sansa, I just don't know what?"

Tyrion wouldn't meet her gaze, shuffling awkwardly on the spot "Don't you need to hit me before you ask a question?"

Arya crouched in front of him, flicking him on the forehead.

"So, what's going on between you and Sansa?"

"I appreciate your concern, but there's nothing wrong really. Things are the same between us as they always have been"

Arya's face softened "I just want you to be happy – and Sansa"

She'd meant to be more direct in asking him, but Arya was well aware it was private and she didn't want to risk scaring him off. She liked to think there was a trusting relationship building between her and Tyrion. Demanding answers could jeopardise that, so Arya resolved to force the answers from Sansa instead. While Tyrion may need gentle understanding at the moment, Sansa needed a rather crude awakening and Arya would happily deliver it.

"Give me your sword – I think we should call it a night" she said, taking in the deep shadows under his eyes

"Yes, it's getting rather late"

Arya returned his weapon and they started back into the castle.

"Thank you for tonight" he said as they headed upstairs "I rather enjoyed sparring with you – terrifying as you are"

"I enjoyed it too" she said "You're pretty good with a sword, but I'm sorry I worked you so hard – you look exhausted"

"I'll be fine" he said, turning off towards the library "Good night Arya"

Arya reached out grabbing his arm with a laugh "As if I'm letting you work now, you can barely keep your eyes open"

"There are things Sansa needs me to do..." he protested as she dragged him towards his chambers

"They can wait until tomorrow. You need proper sleep"

"I function rather well without it"

They arrived at the door and Tyrion looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want to disturb Sansa if she's still working"

Arya watched Tyrion closely as he hesitated before his own chambers, unease filling her chest. What was going on between them that he'd be afraid of finding his wife awake? She pressed her ear to the wooden door, listening for signs of life.

"I'm pretty sure she's asleep" said Arya

Tyrion nodded, visibly relaxing "That's good. Sleep well Arya"

"Good night" she said watching him creep into the room.

Turning off towards her own chambers Arya ran a hand through her hair. She would speak to Sansa tomorrow and offer her help once again. No matter what Sansa convinced herself of, Arya knew her sister was still traumatised by the past few years - how could she not be? It was getting Sansa to admit to it that was proving difficult.

* * *

Sansa crept around the room, trying her best to not wake her sleeping husband. She'd been shocked to find Tyrion still sound asleep in bed this morning as he was always up and gone before she woke herself.

She dressed quickly, fixing her hair and preparing for the day. It had been tempting to stay in bed with Tyrion - part of Sansa had wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold her husband close, apologising for hurting him the other night. The Queen in the North won out in the end and Sansa forced herself to get up, leaving Tyrion curled up on the edge of the bed. She could not allow her emotions to rule her. Her mother had done so and it had helped ignite the war between the Starks and the Lannister's; Sansa had to be smarter than that. There was no room to second guess your choices as a Queen – it could be seen as weakness and weakness made you vulnerable. Sansa Stark would never be vulnerable again.

When she was ready for the day's business, Sansa found herself hovering beside the bed watching Tyrion sleep. A frown twisted his face as he lay curled in on himself and Sansa felt her resolve shudder. She would never regret bringing Tyrion North or making him her husband, but her heart constricted at some of her actions. He was the last person in the world she would want to hurt, yet she had anyway. Sansa had looked at every possible outcome and acted accordingly – everything she'd done had been necessary. Why couldn't he understand everything she was doing was for them? For the North?

_'Is it really?'_ whispered a small voice _'or is this all for you?'_

She turned away from the bed, taking a couple of steps towards the door even as her legs shook beneath her. There was something bothering her; an instinct urging her to go back. Turning back to Tyrion, she observed him once more. He looked so small and lost in the bed; her icy demeanour cracked and shuddered. Bending down she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and adjusted the covers over him.

"I know I've hurt you" she murmured "but I do care for you very much. I promise"

* * *

Arya didn't bother knocking as she barged into Sansa's room at midday. The Queen in the North was eating lunch alone, a pile of correspondence beside her.

"You know some monarchs would have you executed for coming into their chambers unannounced" said Sansa, not bothering to raise her eyes

"When did you turn into Joffrey?" said Arya, pulling out the chair opposite her sister and dropping into it

"What do you want Arya?"

"To talk to my big sister"

"About?"

"You"

Sansa sat back in her chair, finally looking at her sister "What could there possibly be to talk about? Or are you just here to tell me what I'm doing wrong"

"You're awfully snappy today"

"Goodbye Arya" said Sansa, turning her attention back to the letter in front of her

"I'm not leaving until we talk"

"We just did"

Arya studied her sister closely. Sansa was trying to look very busy, but a quick glance at the incomplete work spread over the table told Arya her sister's mind was elsewhere. This conversation was long overdue; Arya would crack through her sister's defences one way or another.

"Where is your husband?" said Arya innocently "I hope he's not too sore after last night"

"He was still asleep when I got up this morning, but I believe he's holding court right now as you well know"

"His skills were quite good; I was rather impressed to be honest"

The corner of Arya's mouth twitched up slightly as Sansa finally looked up at her, placing her papers to one side.

"What are you talking about?" asked Sansa, trying hard to look disinterested "What skills impressed you?"

"We were sparring" said Arya "Your husband is quite good with a sword"

Sansa stared at her for a moment, before snorting "You need to learn to lie better. Tyrion isn't a fighter and I doubt he knows how to use a sword"

"You need to learn your husband better. He practices with the guards' everyday - how do you not know?"

A flicker of doubt passed over Sansa's face "He's never mentioned it to me"

"Are you angry with him?"

"Of course not. Tyrion is the lord of Winterfell; how he spends his time is up to him"

Silence lapsed between them once more and Arya absorbed this new information. It baffled her how oblivious Sansa could be to her husband, and it was more than a little worrying. Both Arya and Maester Wolkan had told Sansa that Tyrion wasn't himself on multiple occasions but her sister appeared incapable of seeing it for herself. Watching Sansa return to her pile of correspondence Arya pulled out a letter she'd received earlier on.

"I got a letter from Bran" she said, catching Sansa's attention

"Anything interesting?"

"It just says; Family, Duty, Honour"

Sansa's eyes darted to the letter in Arya's hand before quickly looking away "The Tully words"

"I always liked the Tully words" said Arya, throwing her legs over the side of the chair "puts things into perspective"

"I got the same letter from Bran this morning"

"Our brother has a way with words"

"Bran is hardly Bran anymore" said Sansa, looking away from the table

This conversation was going nowhere, and Arya realised it was time to get more pointed. She'd tried nice words and an understanding ear, but the real Sansa was too far hidden beneath the ice to be paying attention. Arya grimaced in preparation for what she was going to do; there was no other way around it.

"Tyrion's been quieter than usual the past few days" started Arya, voice curious "yet you've been paying way more attention to him than you normally do"

Sansa's cheeks flushed "He's my husband; I'm supposed to pay attention to him"

"Supposed to but you don't. Tell me big sister, does Tyrion resist when you bed him or just lie there..."

"How dare you!" said Sansa, blue eyes blazing into hers

"Am I wrong?"

"It's none of your business Arya"

"Family. Duty. Honour"

Her sister froze at her words, anger draining steadily from her gaze only to be replaced by guilt. The change was barely noticeable, unless you knew Sansa as well as Arya did.

"I had no choice" said Sansa, looking away "it was duty"

"I can't believe you would hurt him like that after what Ramsay did to you" said Arya, a hint of disgust in her voice

Her sister paled at her words "It wasn't like…that"

"You don't seem convinced Sansa"

"What do you want Arya?"

"To help you Sansa. I love you big sister but you're not acting like a Stark anymore - or a Tully. You're trying to be someone you're not and it's killing you" said Arya, moving to sit straight in her chair

"You don't understand - this is who I have to be to survive" said Sansa, voice rising

Arya sat back observing her sister "Ok. If this is who you are now, you give me no choice. When I leave to find what's west of Westeros I'll take Tyrion with me"

"No you won't. He's my husband, his place is here"

"He's my brother; I won't let you hurt him again. You treat him no better than his sister did - why would I leave him with you?"

Sansa looked as if she'd been slapped "You can't take Tyrion away from me…"

Arya leaned forward, glaring at her sister "Why not? You obviously don't care about him. I bet you can't name any of his friends, you didn't know he'd been learning to use a sword, you treat him like your personal servant and then you take him in your bed and force-"

"Because he's mine and I love him" blurted Sansa, blue eyes challenging Arya to argue

"You don't treat him like someone you love" said Arya after a moment's pause.

"Don't you think I've realised that? I really hurt him the other night, and I will never make that mistake again"

Arya studied her sister's face. Her behaviour the past few days made it clear she was consumed with guilt for what she'd done and Arya wasn't going to demand specifics, but that didn't mean they were done with this conversation. A glimmer of the real Sansa had broken through and Arya couldn't let this possibility slip by.

"I know you've been through a lot these past few years - we all have. Half of our family is dead, but we still have each other; we have our home. Tyrion lost everyone and everything he cared about, I don't want him to get hurt"

Sansa glanced at her, guilt filling her eyes "I never meant to hurt him. He should hate me for the way I've treated him"

"But he won't. I don't think Tyrion could ever hate you"

Her sister looked like she wanted to say something, but instead she turned away idly rearranging the papers on her desk. Arya sat there watching Sansa absorbing the new information she'd learnt. She wasn't really going to try and take Tyrion away from Sansa - Arya knew he wouldn't leave her unless Sansa ordered him to. Arya needed to scare her though, and it had certainly cracked her sister's armour even if just for a moment.

It was a small breakthrough, but Arya didn't doubt her sister's remorse for hurting her husband - or that she loved him. For now Arya would do her best to help them both.

_'Sansa will need reminding'_ echoed Bran's voice.

Arya hadn't understood at the time, but now the message was clear; remind Sansa of who she is. Don't let her sacrifice her Stark and Tully values for the crown. Her sister may have forgotten herself these past weeks, but Arya would keep reminding her for as long as necessary. The real Sansa Stark wasn't dead; she was hiding.

* * *

Despite last night's exertion, sleeping later than normal had certainly left Tyrion refreshed, as he made his way back towards Winterfell. The day had been busy with court, sword practice and then meeting with Deke in the village. His list of responsibilities was near endless and the weight of the work rested heavily on his shoulders as the light snowfall crunched under foot.

The path back to the castle wasn't overly long but was a rather solitary walk. He'd left Nessa at her home for the evening after accompanying him all day, and his mouth twitched upwards at the thought of his squire. In some ways she reminded him of Podrick.

As he walked, Tyrion became aware of footsteps crunching behind him. Coldness crept down his spine, but he refused to alter his pace.

"M'lord" greeted a middle aged man, falling into step beside him

"Good evening" he said, offering him a smile

"Nice to meet you lord Tyrion" said a second man, appearing at his other side

"You too" he said, unease building "Can I help you with anything?"

Neither of the men replied, and panic rose in Tyrion as they continued to walk towards Winterfell. He was halfway between the village and the castle - too far to run for either.

"So you coming the easy way or the hard way?" asked the second man, lazily drawing a knife as they walked. The path rose and fell over the landscape and their position now obscured them from view of any passerby's.

"Coming where?" he asked, backing away from the second man

The man lunged towards him with surprising speed as Tyrion ducked quickly to the right but it was hopeless. The first man grabbed the back of his cloak pulling him towards them.

"Where ya going little lord? North's dangerous for lonely lions"

Tyrion kicked out striking the man's shin, causing him to release Tyrion with a shriek. He took only two steps before the second man leapt on top of him, forcing him face first into the cold, snowy ground.

"Can't believe you let the dwarf kick ya!" he snorted, twisting Tyrion's hands behind his back "hand me the rope"

The man he kicked grumbled but Tyrion soon felt his hands being restrained behind him. He twisted and struggled to free himself, but the men just laughed at his attempts.

"Night, night lord of Winterfell" said the man pinning him to the ground, before a heavy blow connected to the back of his head.

Stars swum in his vision as the world went black

_'I'm sorry Sansa'_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Tyrion's head pounded as consciousness returned, the back of his head ached and seemed to be covered in a sticky dampness he could only assume was blood. Darkness surrounded him and it took him a moment to gather his bearings. His hands were tied behind his back and he'd been gagged, effectively silencing him. Tyrion tried to free his hands but the rope wouldn't budge and simply dug deeper into his wrists. He appeared to be in some kind of cart with a tarp covering the top as the wooden frame bounced and shuddered as they travelled. Twisting to one side, Tyrion glanced around him spotting a flicker of light coming through a gap in the side of the cart. It wouldn't be enough for anyone to notice him, but it could provide some clue as to where he was being taken.

Not for the first time, Tyrion found himself resenting the North's wild landscape. Though it had its own beauty it made it hard to find identifying land marks. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious or which direction they'd left Winterfell in, but the morning light he could see through the gap indicated it was the next day and they'd likely been travelling all night.

They journeyed onwards with Tyrion alternating between looking through the gap and trying to free his hands. If he had to guess, he'd say they were somewhere in the Wolfswood judging by the sheer quantity of trees. Eventually the cart rolled to a stop and the tarp was ripped back, giving Tyrion a good look at his two captors. One was completely bald with a sharp, pointed face while the other man was much larger with dark, scruffy hair and a beard.

"Hope you enjoyed your trip Lord Lannister" said pointy face, smirking down at him

"Come on little lord" said the larger man, grabbing Tyrion's shoulder and wrenching him from the cart "no point trying to escape"

Neither of the men wore identifying sigils or colours but had Northern accents and were both armed with decent quality swords. Tyrion's stomach dropped; these men were not brigands and appeared to be taking their orders from some higher authority.

The snow on the ground was heavier than near Winterfell as he was frog marched through the trees towards a few buildings hidden in what he was now certain was the Wolfswood. It appeared to be an old, worn down farmhouse with a large barn off to one side and a stable of horses at the other end. Various wooden posts lined the area and several old benches sat in front of the farmhouse surrounding a fire. At some time or another, Tyrion could imagine this had once been an inn. Rather than take him to the building, he was dragged over to a post next to one side of the barn and a length of rope was tied to his bound hands, connecting him to the wooden post. There was just enough slack in the rope for him to sit on the ground, but beyond that he was trapped with his hands behind his back.

"Make yourself at home imp" said pointy face "me and Reg here have some payment to collect, then I'm sure you'll be dealt with"

The larger man called Reg, laughed as Tyrion pulled against the post "You aint going nowhere your lordship"

The men continued to mock him as they headed towards the farmhouse and Tyrion tried in vain to free himself. A faint rustling drew his attention and he glanced towards the barn, spying a woman's face watching him through a broken wooden panel.

"Mmhhh" he said, trying to shake the gag free

The woman watched him until the sound of footsteps crunching across the snow could be heard and the panel shifted back into place, hiding the woman from view.

"It's good to see you, my lord"

Anger flooded Tyrion's body as Robin Flint and Gawan Glover came into view, flanked by his two kidnappers. Robin looked much as he had last time he'd seen him; well-dressed and arrogant. It was Gawan who looked the most different. Away from the scrutiny of his father and the Northern lords, the boy looked wild with at least eight different blades and weapons hanging from his belt. Tyrion repressed a shudder at the memory Sansa had once gone riding with Gawan. The young lord Robin eyed him critically, lingering on the back of his head.

"Looks like you took a nasty blow to the head Tyrion" said Robin, glancing quizzically at the two men either side of him "I did tell them not to harm you"

"He tried to run" said pointy face, with a shrug

"The Queen's pet lion" taunted Gawan, moving closer to him. The young lord had the same cruel glint in his eyes as Joffrey and Tyrion found his hand itching to slap him.

Robin merely watched; amusement in his eyes "I think we can remove the gag. Lord Tyrion can shout all he likes and no-one will hear him out here"

Gawan roughly grabbed his head untying the gag, before stepping back to join Robin and the other men.

"Why?" he asked, glaring at them "Sansa trusted you both"

"Not as much as she trusts you" said Robin with a smirk "I want you to know this isn't personal Tyrion. I bear you no ill will - this is simply business"

Gawan crouched down watching him as if he was some kind of animal "Can't believe the Queen actually let _you_ touch her. Make sure you give her a bath before you bed her Robin"

Tyrion's blood ran cold "What?"

"I see no harm in telling you, you're going to die soon anyway" shrugged Robin, as Gawan continued staring at him "There are two reasons you're here Tyrion, care to have a guess?"

"You want to kill me and marry Sansa"

"Yes, that's the obvious reason" said Robin, nodding

"Rather you that me Robin. She's one cold bitch" said Gawan picking up a stick and poking it at Tyrion's breeches "Bet your cock's got frostbite from bedding her"

"The other reason?" asked Robin, raising his eyebrows

Tyrion glanced around the area, a chilling picture forming in his mind "You're behind the missing girls, aren't you?"

"You are clever lord Tyrion" said Robin, a pleased smile crossing his face "It was very dutiful of you to look into the disappearances, but you were coming far too close to discovering us. Those guards you sent to the gift almost caught a couple of our men last week"

Gawan jabbed his stick at Tyrion a final time before straightening up "Those girls are our property now! The first batch of slaves to be sold in our new business venture"

A cold sweat wormed its way down Tyrion's back "You're selling them into slavery?"

"Given your past, I understand how this could be a sensitive subject for you" said Robin, tone mocking "You needn't worry - we're not selling you. You're going to be our honoured guest for a few days, until it's the right time for a dead Lannister to be found"

Tyrion's breathing sped up - they couldn't know about what had happened to him in Essos. Yet they'd both made veiled comments before hinting at their knowledge. Shame burned through him; he had never been fit to marry a Queen.

"Sansa won't marry you" said Tyrion, voice shaky "she's much smarter than that"

"Is she? Sansa fears the lords beneath her - and a forced marriage. When I ride to Winterfell to comfort your grieving widow, do you think she'll turn down a friendly face?"

"Arya won't let you take advantage of her sister" said Tyrion, desperation filling his voice

Gawan's face twisted and he absently curled the fingers Arya had damaged "The Queen doesn't listen to her sister. Robin will be the new lord of Winterfell and our business venture will run smoother than ever. No pesky dwarfs causing problems"

"As I told you before Tyrion - it's nothing personal. If it's any comfort; your death will be quick when the time comes" said Robin, holding his arms up in a placating gesture

"Does it have to be?" asked Gawan, pouting slightly "I had plenty of ideas"

"We'll be busy enough with our new slaves Gawan. Let's give the lord of Winterfell some time to accept his fate"

The men walked off and Tyrion sank to the snow covered ground. How could he have let this happen? They were going to use him to hurt Sansa. Bile rose up his throat at the thought.

_'I failed another Queen'_

* * *

Sansa's whole body shook as she awaited her sister's return, her breath coming in short gasps. This was all her fault. Tyrion had left and she'd driven him away.

Both her and Arya had gone to dinner last night and there was no sign of Tyrion. They'd waited until the food was nearly cold and when he still hadn't arrived panic had set in. They'd searched the castle and sent guards to look for him, but there was no sign of her husband anywhere. Arya had gone into the village looking for Tyrion and Sansa had wanted to join her, but her sister had stubbornly refused.

"If someone's taken Tyrion, they might try to take you as well. Just stay here for now, where it's safe. I'll find him Sansa" Arya had promised

Sansa wasn't convinced Tyrion had been taken; after the way she'd treated him it was possible he'd left of his own accord. Whichever it was, Sansa needed to find him. All night she'd been confined to her chambers with guards at the door, but she couldn't bring herself to sleep. The thought of Tyrion leaving because of her sent her stomach into knots; the idea of someone taking her husband was even worse.

It was nearly midday when the door creaked open and Sansa sprung from her chair to find Arya entering the room, head hanging low.

"Well?" she demanded

Arya shook her head "It's not good Sansa…"

Sansa's heart threatened to burst from her chest "Is he…?"

"I think he's been taken"

A small sense of relief flooded Sansa that her sister hadn't found his body, but it was quickly drowned out by fear.

"By who?"

"I don't know" said Arya "We went through the village and spoke to Nessa -"

"Who's Nessa?" asked Sansa, impatience colouring her voice

Arya gave her a strange look "His squire. She said yesterday Tyrion held court, went to the practice yard then went into the village with her to check on the building projects. He took Nessa back to her mother's and said he was going to see Deke"

"The wildling?" guessed Sansa, recalling the name being mentioned at some point

"Yeah. They met at the inn where he was staying and Deke said Tyrion was going back to Winterfell for dinner. The inn keeper and some other small folk saw him heading back this way"

Sansa twisted her hands "You don't think he left…because of me?"

A deep sadness filled Ayra's eyes as she lifted a scrap of dark grey material "I found this on the path back to Winterfell, and there was some blood near it. I think it's from Tyrion's cloak. Alec and I looked all around there and it looks like there were a couple of sets of foot prints heading away from the main path, but it snowed again last night and covered most of the evidence. It was too dark to see any of it last night"

The material was heavy and dark grey - too fine to belong to the small folk. If Arya was right, someone had taken her husband. Sansa squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to look at the scrap of material any longer.

"This is all my fault" she said, voice breaking

"It's not your fault Sansa. We'll find Tyrion and bring him home - I promise"

Sansa fought to control her emotions. It would be easy to lose herself in guilt and regret, but she couldn't do that when Tyrion was out there alone and in danger. There would be time for that later; when he was safe in her arms and whoever had taken him was dead.

"Send out all the guards and send messages to the other lords near Winterfell. I want my husband back and whoever has taken him brought before me to face justice"

Arya nodded solemnly, determination filling her grey eyes "Right away"

_'Hold on Tyrion'_ thought Sansa _'We're going to find you'_

* * *

Tyrion leaned back against the post frantically dragging his bound hands up and down the rough wood. It was slow, painful work and the strain on his shoulders was terrible, but Tyrion persevered in the hope of sawing through the rope. Thankfully they weren't guarding him too closely and only a couple of men sat on the benches surrounding the fire, chatting amongst themselves.

As he worked Tyrion glanced towards the barn on his right, calling out softly "Is anyone in there?"

A few moments passed in silence before the wooden panel he'd seen before moved and a young woman's face appeared once more. Her face was covered in grime, but her eyes held a spark of defiance.

"Hello" he said

"I know who you are" said the girl

"My name is Tyrion"

"Aye, you're a Lannister. You married the Queen"

"That's true" he nodded "Who are you?"

"Name's Rose" she said, eyeing him critically

"What happened to you?" said Tyrion, eyes darting between the barn and the guards

"Got taken near the gift, same as most of the girls in here" she spat "they're going to sell us as slaves"

Tyrion's heart twisted "How many of you are there?"

"Reckon there's about forty of us in here. Some been here a lot longer than others"

"Have they hurt you?"

"They barely feed us and keep us in chains like animals, but no they won't damage their 'stock' before they sell us" said Rose, eyes glinting dangerously

"Is there a girl called Callie there?" he asked, heart racing

"Aye, she's only a young one. Scared to death in here" said Rose "What's it to you dwarf?"

"Her grandfather Deke came to Winterfell – he's been helping me search for you all"

The information seemed to surprise Rose, who looked at him sceptically.

"Why would a fancy little lord wanna help us free folk? We aint kneelers"

"No-one deserves to be bought and sold. I promised Deke my help and I intend to keep that promise"

Silence lapsed between them and Tyrion halted his efforts to free his hands, glancing around the area. He'd spent a lot of time looking at the maps of the North and he vaguely recalled seeing an inn on a very old map in the library. It wasn't on any of the newer ones, but if he was correct he had a rough idea where they were.

Tyrion turned his attention to the barn, looking at the half hidden face of the girl "I think I can get you out of here, but I'll need your help"

Rose looked warily at him "If you keep going you'll free yourself eventually. Sneaking away alone would be safer. Trying to save us is risky little lord"

"I won't let them sell you into slavery"

The girl studied him for a moment before nodding "Aye, you have my help. I'd rather die escaping than live in chains"

The sun rose higher in the sky as Tyrion discussed his plan with Rose, learning the routines and positions of the guards while describing how escape was possible. By the time the sun began its descent the broken panel in the barn had been closed and Tyrion's hands were almost free. Rose would explain everything to the other girls held captive with her. Fortunately they were all held in the same place and she had explained to him the routine that usually happened each night, including the number of guards she'd seen over her time there. Now it was a waiting game.

Overall, Tyrion had counted nearly twenty guards around the area with at least twelve horses on one side of the camp. If his plan went wrong the armed guards would easily capture the malnourished women despite their numbers. It was possible Sansa or Arya had sent guards to find him, surely they would have noticed he was missing by now.

_'Maybe they won't bother at all'_

No. He couldn't think like that. Whether anyone was looking for him or not, he had to help these women.

"Your dinner my lord" said Gawan sauntering across to him. The young lord placed a bowl in front of him, filled with some kind of meat and slop.

"Are you going to feed it to me?" asked Tyrion, indicating his bound hands

Gawan only grinned "You can eat it like the tame little lion you are. Go on"

Tyrion didn't respond, leaning back against the post. No matter how hungry he got there was no way he would humiliate Sansa any further by eating like a dog from a bowl.

The young lord's grin faded as he got no response "I said eat"

"Not hungry"

Gawan crouched down next to Tyrion grabbing the back of his head sending a sharp pain through him as he put pressure against the wound from yesterday. The young lord bent Tyrion forwards while he struggled against him, but it was no use as Gawan quickly overpowered him.

"You will eat" ground out Gawan, pushing Tyrion's head down towards the bowl

His face was forced into the rancid food as he squirmed to free himself, but Gawan's grip only tightened - holding him in place. Tyrion was finding it difficult to breathe and his head was aching at the pressure. Despite his resolve, survival took over and Tyrion's mouth opened taking a bite out of the food.

"Good boy" praised Gawan, refusing to let him up "now swallow"

To his shame Tyrion swallowed the vile slop and Gawan finally pulled his head back up from the bowl, laughing at him and the food that covered his face.

Footsteps approached and a guard appeared smirking at the sight of Tyrion, before addressing Gawan "Lord Robin wants to see you to go over the plans, m'lord"

"Duty calls" said Gawan with a sigh, rising to his feet "enjoy your dinner lord Lannister"

Tyrion's body shook when the men were out of sight. How low had he fallen - reduced to eating like an animal. Ned Stark or even Robb Stark would not have caved so easily, yet once again Tyrion had shown his true self and it disgusted him.

Leaning back against the post the corners of Tyrion's mouth twitched upwards slightly. Humiliating as the experience had been, Gawan had just made his plan much easier. Tyrion twisted the small knife in his fingers; swiped from the cruel boy's belt as he tormented him. He had no idea why the young lord needed so many weapons but he doubted he would miss this one.

"Rose" he called softly, waiting for the wooden panel to move back. As her face appeared, Tyrion twisted the knife in his hands so she could see it.

A wicked smile spread over her face "That'll help"

Thankfully he was quite close to the barn, and managed to twist his hands enough to throw the blade towards Rose. The rope around his own hands had loosened considerably from his efforts but it wouldn't be safe to free himself until it was darker.

"You've told everyone the plan?" he asked, as she pushed her head through the gap pulling the blade the rest of the way into the barn.

"Aye little lion, when you move we will be ready" said Rose, replacing the panel to set about her own work.

The light of the day was slowly fading as the cold wind picked up, chilling him. He huddled in on himself, trying to stay warm. His plan was very risky and would rely a lot on luck, though getting the knife had certainly helped. As soon as night fell he would strike.

* * *

Arya was exhausted as night started to fall. All day they'd searched for any sign of Tyrion or who could have taken him but their efforts had been useless. She was certain he'd been taken though they had no idea why or who could have done it. Arya and Alec had led the search, going over every inch of the villages surrounding Winterfell hoping to find some clue.

"Lady Arya, we'll have to call it a night soon" said Alec, bringing his horse to trot alongside hers "The terrain is far too dangerous to search at night"

"I know" said Arya with a sigh "doesn't mean I like it though"

"None of us do. I've sent a few men to the local villages in case they hear word of Tyrion's whereabouts"

Arya surveyed the landscape one last time, before reluctantly turning her horse back towards Winterfell

"Why would anyone take Tyrion? He doesn't bother anyone" said Cayn, eyes downcast as they regrouped

"To hurt the Queen" said Brice, face tightening "Cause he's a Lannister. He's the lord of Winterfell. Plenty of reasons"

"We'll find him" said Lyle, nudging his brother "Tyrion's smart, he'll be ok until we rescue him"

Arya smiled at their determination. She hated having to stop the search but Alec was right and wandering blindly through the dark would do them no good, as much as it felt like they were giving up.

Thankfully Alec took charge "Get some rest and we're back out again at first light. Tomorrow we'll expand the search outside of Winterfell"

They made their way back towards the castle, other guards and search parties joining them. Sansa had been sending ravens all day urging the other lords and ladies of the North to join the search. Her older sister was putting on a mask of calm but Arya could see she was terrified. She didn't relish having to tell Sansa they were no closer to finding him than they were last night; her sister was clearly blaming herself for Tyrion's disappearance.

Urging her horse onwards, Arya fiddled with needle at her side. Bran's letter from the day before replayed in her mind; family, duty, honour.

Had Bran known this was going to happen? Was he trying to prepare them for this? Her stomach twisted at the thought. Bran was certainly different now but he was still her brother; he wouldn't let anything happen to Tyrion…

Arya shook her head, clearing the thoughts. If Sansa hadn't already written to Bran she would write and ask for his help. Perhaps with his three-eyed raven abilities he could find Tyrion.

* * *

Tyrion watched the last of the guards disappear into the farmhouse, leaving only two men on guard duty. One was positioned in front of the barn, though he had his back to it, edging closer to the fire. The other man was across the camp sat on a stack of crates near the stables. The set up was exactly as Rose had described and no other measures had been put in place for Tyrion's arrival. Since Gawan's dinner time visit he'd been completely ignored and Tyrion hadn't done anything to draw attention to himself.

He had to admit Robin and Gawan had set up a tidy operation and it had clearly been running smoothly for many weeks; though he suspected Robin was the brains behind it. Gawan was little more than a mad dog. Fortunately for Tyrion, the young lords' success at hiding their business had made them complacent. Leaving only two guards to watch over forty women and him was sheer arrogance, born from a lack of experience. Though Robin had said they were keeping him alive for now, he wasn't entirely sure how long they expected him to last, sitting in the snow outside all night. Already he was shivering from the cold, despite his cloak and heavy clothes.

Tyrion leaned back against the post once more, straining the rope as he sawed up and down. A short time later the rope fell away and his hands were free. Sitting forward, Tyrion stiffly moved his raw and bleeding wrists in front of him, wincing at the sight. The first problem was the guard by the barn. Moving to the broken panel, Tyrion tapped twice and it was quickly pulled aside revealing Rose - a huddle of frightened eyes stared back at him from behind her. Wordlessly, Rose passed him back the small knife he'd stolen and Tyrion returned to his position by the post, loosely covering his wrists with the broken strands of rope behind his back.

"Guard!" called Tyrion, voice shaking "Guard, help!"

It wasn't hard to fake the desperation in his voice; if his plan went wrong who knew how many of the women could die.

"Oi, what you shouting about?" said the guard, rounding the corner from in front of the barn

Tyrion shivered violently, leaning against the post. The guard was a young man with a broken mess of a nose spread over his face. The guard bent down next to him, grabbing a fistful of his tunic and straightening him up.

"Come..." stuttered Tyrion

"What you babbling about imp?" said the man leaning closer to Tyrion

In one swift movement, Tyrion thrust his right hand upwards shoving the knife through the guard's throat. Blood splattered over him as the young man fell to the ground, a pool of red rapidly spreading around the body. A horrible guilt settled over Tyrion as he watched him die; once again he was a monster.

"Tyrion" urged Rose, having moved the panel aside "are we set?"

He nodded, pushing the dead body off him and creeping towards the front of the barn. As he'd predicted the night was too dark and the other guard too far away to have noticed anything was amiss. They would still need to move quickly before anyone did notice – it would only take someone to come out of the farmhouse or the other guard to wander over and they would be caught.

Hurrying back to the panel, Tyrion crouched down next to the gap "No-one's noticed, we need to move quickly though"

Since Tyrion had given her the knife after dinner Rose had worked tirelessly to free herself and the rest of the girls from their restraints. It was a small blessing that they were fed so little and generally left alone in the barn; it had given them time to quietly work towards escape.

The broken panel left a gap too small to climb through but with both Tyrion and the women on the other side pushing, they managed to break the adjacent panel enough for the women to slither out through the gap.

"Quickly and quietly" he urged as Rose appeared beside him. She was older than he'd first though but no more than thirty. She looked dirty and underfed, but her face was alive with energy as she led the other prisoners to escape. His eyes lingered on the black collar fastened around her neck.

He swallowed before speaking "I'm sorry you've all been here so long. I sent some of the Winterfell guard out to the gift, but I fear it was too little too late"

"Not your fault little lion. We aint kneelers so we don't get protection like other folks" said the wildling with a shrug

He turned away from the barn, unable to stomach the sight of the frightened young girls with slave collars fastened around their necks. His niece Myrcella had been a similar age to these girls the last time he saw her and the thought of her ever being subject to the same treatment sent a shudder through him. Instead Tyrion made his way over to the man he killed, removing the sword from his waist. It was longer and heavier than the one he trained with but it did bring him some comfort. One by one the girls emerged, disappearing quietly into the Wolfswood. Tyrion kept lookout while Rose oversaw the escape, his body tingling with nerves. They were so close, but there was still a lot that could go wrong.

Returning to Rose he whispered "Are they all certain of where to go?"

"Aye, they all know" she said "I paired up the young ones and the village girls with the few older free folk. They'll look after them"

A young girl with scraggy brown hair scrambled out of the barn, glancing shyly at Tyrion before running into the Wolfswood.

"That one's Callie" said Rose, pointing to her as she followed an older woman into the trees "told her you know her grandfather"

"She's so young - and she's been held here for weeks" said Tyrion, eyes downcast. The girl was little more than a child, stolen away from her home and family to be sold like an animal. His own time as a slave had been brief and brutal; giving him great sympathy with Daenerys' mission to abolish slavery. Familiar guilt burned through him at her memory. No matter what she'd become at the end, Tyrion knew she'd had a good heart. Daenerys had genuinely wanted to help people, if not for the madness that consumed her she would have been a good Queen.

_'You killed her'_ his mind whispered_ 'If you'd been a better friend she might have listened to you'_

The last few girls were making there way out of the barn when Tyrion spotted a light in the distance. Three men had emerged from the farmhouse, a flaming torch in hand.

"Oi, Todd!" shouted one of the men, and panic gripped Tyrion. They were looking towards the barn; for the guard he'd killed.

Rushing back towards Rose, he whispered urgently passing the small knife to her "We have to go, they're coming"

Together they pulled the last girl free and moved into the cover of the Wolfswood. A group of women were disappearing into the distance following the directions he'd told them but it would all be for nothing if they were followed. There were five of them in the last group; Tyrion, Rose and three young girls. His body tingled with nerves as they broke into a run, Rose leading the way through the trees.

"They're getting away!"

"Get the rest of the men"

Tyrion's heart pounded frantically as the shouts echoed through the darkness. Moments later the sound of branches breaking behind them forced them to run faster. Glancing behind him as he moved Tyrion made out three dark shapes gaining on them - one ahead of the others. It would take time for the rest of the guards to wake and join the pursuit but they couldn't risk being caught by these men. A young red-headed girl running beside him stumbled over a branch, tumbling to a halt in the darkness. Tyrion wasted no time grabbing her hand and urging her to her feet. They'd taken only a few steps when the girl was jerked to a halt in his grip.

"Where are you going?" panted the man, a sadistic grin covering his face as he dragged the girl backwards

"No, no, no..." she chanted as her captor pulled her away

Dark, terrified eyes locked onto his and Tyrion tightened his grip on her hand. Rather than trying to pull her free, he pushed himself towards her thrusting his sword past the girl and straight through her captor's stomach.

"Go!" he said, shoving the girl behind him.

Rose had reappeared at his side grasping the girl's hand and urging her on as the other two men burst through the trees.

Tyrion turned towards Rose who now had the three girls in front of her hurrying them down a path. She looked imploringly at him, and Tyrion gently shook his head. He knew what he had to do. The wildling lingered a moment longer, before disappearing into the trees as the other men charged towards him.

"The imp killed him, Duke" said a young man, eyeing the body of his fallen comrade with increasing panic

The second man wasted no time drawing his own sword and striking at Tyrion. He recognised him immediately as one of his kidnappers; pointy face. Raising his sword, he awkwardly deflected the blow before lashing out at the man apparently called Duke. This sword was longer and heavier than what he trained with but the hours of practice had given him some kind of survival instinct. Duke staggered away avoiding Tyrion's strike as the young man drew his own weapon, closing in on Tyrion's right side.

"Go after the slaves Walt" ordered Duke, smirking at Tyrion "I can handle the dwarf"

Walt hesitated for a second and it was all Tyrion needed. Ignoring the man in front of him he quickly changed targets, swinging the sword low and to his right severing the young man's right leg at the knee. An inhuman shriek filled the night as Walt dropped to the ground, clutching at the stump.

"My...leg..." he howled, staring at the limb in disbelief

Horror flashed in Duke's eyes before anger distorted his face "You'll pay for that, you little monster!"

Tyrion raised his sword to block the furious blows but found himself struggling under the onslaught. The cries of the man he'd maimed echoed through the forest and he found it difficult to focus on his current battle; he paid for it a moment later when his opponent's sword sliced his upper left arm causing him to stumble backwards. Blood poured from the injury, soaking his sleeve as Tyrion raised his sword to deflect the next strike. He couldn't risk the women being caught again; he had to give them a chance. Only the three men who'd followed them could have seen which direction the girls had fled in and Tyrion couldn't allow them to tell anyone else.

Fury was driving Duke as he threw wild, powerful attacks at Tyrion. Any of the strikes would be the death of him; his only chance would be to surprise his attacker. Steel clashed as Tyrion blocked a strike at his head, stepping inwards to drag the sword across his attacker's stomach. The blade sliced into the man drawing a long line of blood, but he'd managed to avoid the worst of the blow.

The man looked at his wound in disbelief, before pointing his sword at Tyrion "I'm gonna kill you slow, imp"

Tyrion panted, shoulders shaking as he stood opposite Duke. Walt's shouts of pain had turned to sobs as he bled out on the ground. Torches glowed in the distance - it would only be a matter of minutes before they were surrounded, and Tyrion was absolutely exhausted. His left arm ached from the injury and his body seemed to grow weaker by the second. It was too much; he wasn't a fighter and he never had been. Jamie could have easily cut through these men, even without his sword hand. So could Arya; despite her size she was an excellent fighter.

The memory of their sparring the other night came to mind and an idea took root. It was stupid, but he was rapidly running out of time. Standing side on Tyrion loosened his grip on his sword, letting the point drop downwards. Sensing the easy kill, the man lunged forwards slashing down to take his head. At the same time Tyrion threw himself towards his attacker, whipping the blade up and through the man's throat. Blood sprayed over him as he stumbled away from the dead man. While his sword skills would never amount to much, Tyrion knew he was a quick learner. Sparring for so long with Arya had given him an up close look at her water dancing and its unpredictable style. She used it to great effect against larger opponents and it had certainly saved him tonight.

"Over there!"

The shout came as the first reinforcements made their way into the forest. Pushing through his exhaustion, Tyrion ran towards the man he'd maimed. Despite the horrific injury Walt was still clinging to life - but there could be no opportunities for him to tell the others which direction the girls had gone in. Raising the sword as he approached the dying man, Tyrion severed his head in one quick strike; the weapon dropping from his numb hands as soon as it was done.

"By the Gods" said one of the men as they swarmed around him "the imp killed Walt!"

"More bodies over here!"

"Let me at the little bastard"

"Rip him to pieces"

"No! The lords will want him alive" spoke an older voice as the men swarmed around him; ready to avenge their fallen comrades "spread out and look for the slaves. You two get the dwarf"

Tyrion didn't resist as the guards fell on top of him, rough hands twisting his arms painfully behind his back and holding him upright. He'd done what he could to save the girls, and four men were now dead by his hand; their blood painting his Northern clothes in Lannister red.

He was so tired. His vision was already dimming when a fist smashed into the side of his face, turning his world black.

* * *

Sansa lifted her needlework project, the glow of the hearth illuminating her work. She couldn't bring herself to sleep. Arya had come in not long ago informing her the search hadn't been successful and would need to continue in the morning. Her sister had looked thoroughly miserable about it, but Sansa understood why they couldn't search through the night. She was the Queen she had to understand these things; no matter how much she wanted to ride out of Winterfell and find her husband.

Sansa's hands trembled as she stitched the lion onto Tyrion's tunic. All day she'd been stuck in Winterfell waiting for news, guilt slowly eating away at her demeanour of forced calm. In desperation she'd returned to her room searching for something that reminded her of Tyrion, only to discover her husband was a ghost. When they'd married Sansa had cleared out some draws for his use and she opened them to find several sets of clothes and nothing else.

_'Why are you surprised? He came to Winterfell with nothing but the clothes on his back'_

Surely there was some trace of her husband in their room? Sansa had looked for anything, only to discover there was nothing because Tyrion spent so little time there. There was no Lannister red or gold, nothing with his lion sigil, nothing that showed he even lived there. Eventually she'd pulled out some of his work, finding a stack of paperwork he'd been in the middle of. Hope had risen in her that she would perhaps find the lion seal he surely used for letters. Instead she found a seal marked with a simple 'W' and a pot of Stark grey wax.

The Queen in the North had confronted Maester Wolkan about it, demanding to know why her husband didn't have his own seal.

"I was going to arrange for one to be made, but lord Tyrion refused. Instead he uses a simple W for Winterfell. I suggested he might prefer to use your direwolf sigil if not his own, but he refused that as well"

"Why would he do that?" she demanded, throat tightening

The Maester had looked at her with pity "I believe lord Tyrion is quite troubled, your Grace - and he has been since he arrived"

Sansa refused to believe it - but why wouldn't he want to use his lion sigil? He'd always seemed proud to be a Lannister. Now she sat by the hearth, refusing to use her empty bed as she stitched a lion onto Tyrion's tunic. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but Sansa refused to let them fall. They would find Tyrion and everything would be ok. It had to be…

* * *

Awareness returned slowly to Tyrion and with it came the petulant face of Gawan Glover towering over him. His face ached and the slice across his arm burned as he lay on the cold, snow covered ground.

"Haven't you been naughty" he said, face splitting into a grin as he straightened up "The lord of Winterfell awakens at last"

Tyrion's head was still swimming as he was jerked upright; a guard gripping each of his arms. He'd been brought back to the farmhouse and now stood before Robin and Gawan by the benches. The lord of Widows Watch had his usual smug smile on his face, but his eyes betrayed him – glinting dangerously as the first rays of light appeared in the sky. It must have been no more than a couple of hours since he was recaptured in the Wolfswood, but glancing around the area he saw no sign of the women.

"We've not caught them yet" said Robin, following his gaze "but we will. They're far too weak to evade our men, and the riders have gone out on horses now too. You've caused a bit of a nuisance, but it will only be temporary"

"He butchered four of our men" growled the man to Tyrion's right, digging his fingers painfully into his arm

Robin shrugged "Not much of a loss if they couldn't beat a little runt like him"

Gawan was bouncing up and down in a way that made Tyrion nervous. The cruel boy was far too happy for someone whose business had just been ruined "Since you escaped, we're tightening security on you"

"Yes" agreed Robin, glancing at Tyrion "Strip him to the waist"

Tyrion squirmed as Gawan approached him with a knife, cutting his blood soaked clothes away from him.

"What are you doing?" said Tyrion trying to curl in on himself, as the cold Northern air hit his exposed skin

"It appears the Queen wants her pet lion back. The whole of Winterfell has been searching for you and it's only a matter of time before they come looking in the Wolfswood. Your blood soaked clothes and a bit of golden hair will soon appear far away from here, leading the search elsewhere" said Robin, smirking as Gawan grabbed his head and hacked off a handful of hair

"Would killing me not be easier?" said Tyrion, embarrassment burning through him as he stood half naked before the lords

"Can't yet" said Robin waving his hand "your death needs to be blamed on someone and all the pieces aren't in place at the moment. So you'll remain our guest – under stricter observation this time"

Gawan moved from in front of the bench as the guards on either side of Tyrion lifted him in the air forcing him on top of it, the rough wood pressing into his chest.

"Look at his back" said Gawan prodding him as he laughed "someone's taught him a lesson"

Shame rose through Tyrion as the men laughed at the scars across his back. He tried to wriggle free, but the men's grip was unyielding as a thick piece of leather was wrapped around his neck. The horrible sensation of being choked went through him, but Tyrion couldn't escape from it.

"Going into the slave trade, we did our research. Imagine our surprise at the rumours the Dragon Queen's hand was bought and sold as a slave. A proud and mighty lion of Casterly Rock sold at an auction in chains" said Robin, leaning closer as the collar was tightened, digging deeply into Tyrion's neck "We told Sansa but she wouldn't hear of it – those scars on your back prove it though. Flogging is a pretty standard punishment for slaves. What did you do to earn it I wonder?"

Had Sansa heard the rumours about him? She'd never asked him; probably believing it was lies. She would surely shun him if she knew it was all true. Tyrion kept his mouth shut but his head was side on against the bench forcing him to look at Robin. The young lord's face was trying to remain neutral but the amusement in his eyes betrayed him - he was enjoying this as much as Gawan.

"Don't want to tell me? That's fine" said Robin, clicking his fingers "Now, since you escaped your last restraints, we can't risk you taking your collar off. I'd hold still if I were you"

Gawan's grinning face came into view with a small pot of heated metal held in a long clamp. Tyrion's heart sped up as the cruel boy brought the boiling material near his face, heat prickling against his skin.

"I could melt your face with this" he said, tilting it towards him "burn your eyes, dip your fingers in and watch them melt - but I have other orders"

Gawan moved the pot behind him and a moment later heat prickled against his neck. Tyrion fought to control his breathing, awaiting the agony that would surely follow. When it didn't, he realised what they were doing. The metal was being poured on to the collar effectively sealing it shut, though a few splashes dripped against his skin burning him. He grimaced against the pain and the realisation the collar would not come off unless it was cut, and it's tightness to his neck made even that incredibly difficult.

"Doesn't that look good?" said Gawan in his ear, patting his back as he finished

"Well now that's been dealt with" said Robin, pulling a piece of paper from his tunic "I need your advice on something Tyrion. Since you're the lord of Winterfell I'm sure you'd be happy to help"

The guards holding him continued to press him against the wooden bench top and Tyrion had no other option but to look as what appeared to be a drawing was held in front of his face. The picture was of a circle with several curved and straight lines going throu-

Searing agony shot through his left shoulder as the smell of burning flesh filled the air. Tyrion writhed on the bench, clamping his mouth shut to stop his screams. He was powerless to escape as the iron seemed to melt into his back. The branding lasted only seconds but to Tyrion it could have been a lifetime. Laughter rang out around him when it was done, leaving him shaking on the bench.

"Now you'll never forget what you are" said Gawan as blood filled Tyrion's mouth from biting his tongue "Thought you'd have screamed Lannister"

Robin grinned as Tyrion's heart thudded painfully against his chest "Took that like a proper little lord of Winterfell. I'm sure Sansa would be proud"

_'Sansa, I'm so sorry'_ thought Tyrion inhaling a shuddering breath _'I failed you again'_

"Aren't you going to say thank you?" said Gawan, running a grimy hand through Tyrion's hair as if he was petting a dog "The brand is a lot bigger than I expected but you're only small"

Tyrion squeezed his eyes shut at the burning ache in his shoulder - and his heart. He could never go back to Winterfell now. He'd humiliated Sansa and Arya by allowing this to happen. The thought of the revulsion he would surely see in Sansa's eyes was more than he could handle.

"Look at me" commanded Robin, gripping his chin and squeezing until Tyrion's eyes opened "I told you at the start this wasn't personal, and it isn't - but you stole Gawan's fun. Those slaves are getting shipped off to Essos in a few days and they were going to be branded today, so letting him practice on you seemed a reasonable punishment"

Gawan sat on the bench beside Robin, his face beaming "Some slavers use tattoos to identify their slaves but we figured branding was much more efficient. They all come out the same and it's great fun. Didn't you enjoy that?"

A flicker of amusement passed over Robin's face at his friend's enthusiasm, replaced quickly by a cruel smile "When the slaves are brought back they will be marked as property - like you, and I'll make sure you watch every single branding"

"He's used to being property" laughed Gawan, as Tyrion's heart cracked to pieces "He's just changed owner - from Sansa to us"

"The Queen was rather proud of her little lion" said Robin, corners of his mouth twitching downwards "she snubbed every young, strong Northman in favour of you. And now look at the Queen's husband; the mighty lord of Winterfell"

Tyrion didn't resist as he was pulled up from the bench and dragged away; any fight draining out of him. Sansa had trusted him and he'd failed. Just like he'd failed Jamie, Daenerys, Varys and everyone else he'd ever cared about.

_'I'm so sorry Sansa'_


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N - I'm so sorry. I uploaded this chapter and then never posted it. Good news is the next chapter is coming soon...**

* * *

**Chapter 16**

"Everything all right, your Grace? If you don't mind me saying; you look grimmer than usual"

Bran turned to Ser Davos; observing the man he had named hand of the King. A good, kind man and loyal to a fault - the onion Knight was a great help and very capable. Bran would have asked him to join his council in another capacity if he'd stuck with his first choice of hand. The castle was stirring to life in the morning sun and Bran had requested Ser Davos to meet with him in his chambers as soon as possible. While Kings Landing was just waking up, Bran had been awake for hours; seeing both too much and not enough.

"I fear I made a mistake, Ser Davos" said Bran, tone emotionless as he gestured to the chair opposite his wheelchair "and my brother is paying the price"

"Jon's in trouble?" said Davos, a note of panic in his voice.

Bran smiled sadly at his concern "No, I mean my new brother"

"Tyrion?"

"When Sansa asked me for his life I agreed to her request because there was a chance"

"A chance for what?"

"Many things" said Bran, eyes turning distant

Ser Davos shifted uncomfortably, as he was prone to do when the answers were vague "Is there no longer a chance for these many things?"

"Do you think Tyrion is a good man?"

Ser Davos sighed at his lack of an answer "I think he's a complicated man, but I rather liked him. He tried to do the right thing"

"Even though he killed your son?"

"It was war" said Davos, sorrow filling his eyes "Stannis would have killed his family if he hadn't beaten us. I wanted to hold it against him, but I couldn't. I'm in his position now as Hand and if we were attacked I'd probably do the same thing and another man would lose a son"

Bran laced his fingers in front of him, staring at the onion Knight "After my fall, Tyrion came to Winterfell with a saddle design that would let me ride again"

"Good of him - knowing Lannister's aren't well liked in the North"

"I'm the three-eyed raven now; I know and see many things. Things about my family, things about strangers, even things about you" said Bran watching the older man flinch "It's a strange kind of power - to look at someone and see their whole life even clearer than they do"

"Not sure I'd like that power"

"The three-eyed raven neither likes nor dislikes it" said Bran, straightening in his wheelchair "Yet, I'm still Bran Stark; and he remembers his excitement at Tyrion's gift. It gave him hope when he had given up"

"Has something happened in the North?"

Bran smiled; Davos was getting better at following his often wandering thoughts. As his hand it was a main requirement of the job.

"Many things have happened in the North, but it's my brother that concerns me. He's in great pain and there is nothing the three-eyed raven can do to help him. I asked Sansa to look after him and she hasn't. When I was going to name him hand, I visited his past to be certain of my choice - and I saw so much suffering. He may have made bad decisions but Tyrion is a good man; he doesn't deserve what's happening to him now"

"Can we help him? You know Podrick will be upset when he finds out"

Bran's thoughts turned to his sworn shield. He'd turned down Podrick's request to join the Kingsguard telling him it wasn't time. Instead he'd asked the young man to serve as his sworn shield and knighted him. He wasn't sure why he'd refused Pod's request, but there was a vague sense allowing him to join the Kingsguard was wrong.

Bran's face turned downwards "I fear there is nothing we can do now, and I cannot intervene. Ser Davos, I trust you will see to my duties today"

"Of course, your Grace"

"Good. I may not be able to help Tyrion, but Bran Stark wishes to be with him all the same"

Ser Davos left the chambers as Bran's eyes turned white, his mind already flying through a thousand different eyes before settling into the familiar comfort of a raven. He flew through the Wolfswood, reaching a farmhouse buried in its maze of trees. Landing on a post the raven peered into the stables. It was empty save for a stall at the far end where Tyrion Lannister was slumped on the straw covered floor. A collar was fastened around his neck connecting him to the wall behind him, while his hands were chained and stretched in front of him, tethering him to the floor with no room to move from the awkward position.

The raven settled on to the post observing his brother.

Family, duty, honour.

* * *

It was midday when a rider bearing the sigil of house Cerwyn found Arya. All morning they'd expanded the search, with both Lord Cerwyn and Lady Tallhart sending out their own guards to assist them.

"Lady Arya, you should come at once" called the man, pulling his horse up beside her and Lyle. He was older than most of the other guards, with short brown hair that was starting to turn grey.

"Have you found Tyrion?" she asked, posture stiffening

"No m'lady" said the guard, lowering his gaze "but we have found something you should see"

Arya needed no more prompting and spurred her horse onwards, Lyle at her side. They followed the man until they came across an upturned cart, its owner struggling in the grip of two guards. Dismounting her horse, Arya approached the group studying the man they held. He was young and lanky, terrified eyes darting around the area.

"Who is this?" asked Arya, her eyes never leaving the man

"Says his name is Glenn" said the captain who led them here

Arya nodded, taking in the man's nerves "What has Glenn been doing?"

The older man shifted uneasily, before reaching for a bundle on the ground. It was wrapped in brown cloth as he passed it to Arya.

"We were checking carts in case Lord Tyrion was being hidden in one. This package was found in this man's cart..."

He trailed off as Arya unwrapped the bundle, fear clawing up her throat as she looked at what was undoubtedly Tyrion's bloodstained tunic, a piece of golden hair in the middle of the pile. Arya's hands trembled as she carefully rewrapped the bundle placing it to the side.

Needle slid easily into her hand as she strode towards the man who now trembled in the guards grip.

"Where's my brother?" she said, resting the tip of her sword at his throat

"Please...I don't know..."

"Wrong answer"

"Really, I don't know" he said, voice rising "Please…I just got told to deliver the package"

"Who gave you this package?"

"There was a man…in an inn. Paid me to take it to the Kings Road and leave it there"

Arya pushed Needle against the man's skin, grey eyes watching him like a predator with prey "Do you value your life?"

"Yes m'lady"

"I don't. I value my brother's life"

Glenn's face paled "I don't want to die"

"Then you will take me to the inn and describe the man you saw. If you've lied to me, you will die"

The man swallowed, nodding eagerly "Of course m'lady. I didn't know what was in the package, I swear"

Arya reluctantly lowered needle. Glenn appeared to be telling the truth, fortunately for him. Her eyes moved to the package and she grimaced at the thought of its contents. This was the closest thing they had to a lead; but the thought of showing Sansa made her blood run cold.

"All that blood…" muttered Lyle also eyeing the package

"He must be alive" said Arya, forcing her voice to sound certain "someone was trying to send us in the wrong direction. If he was dead they wouldn't bother"

Lyle nodded though his face betrayed his uncertainty. Arya had to believe he was alive and they would rescue him soon. When he was safe, she would kill whoever had taken him; whoever hurt him in the most gruesome way possible.

* * *

Tyrion shivered against the cold breeze, his restraints making it impossible to huddle for warmth. When the young lords had finished with him, he'd been dragged off to the stables and chained in place. The collar around his neck was unbearably tight as the chain attached to it kept his head from moving too much in any direction. His hands had been cuffed and chained to the ground in front of him, effectively holding him in place.

His position was humiliating. The lord of Winterfell – chained like a dog, wearing only his breeches with a slave collar around his neck. Though of all the indignities he'd suffered it was the mark now permanently etched on the back of his shoulder that caused him the most shame. Even hours later the brand burned as if the hot iron was still being pressed into him, pain radiating across his back and down his left arm. A permanent reminder of what he was.

Surely his father and Joffrey were laughing at him from their place in the seven hells. Cersei would no doubt be delighted at the state of him. Jamie wouldn't laugh at him though. His big brother had never mocked him; only ever laughing with him. Tyrion wished his brother was here. He didn't want to be alone.

The sound of raised voices caught his attention and Tyrion's heart sped up. He'd been left alone all morning with a guard positioned outside the stables. From his place on the ground he couldn't see much else besides trees and some sky over the wooden gate that covered his stall. He knew the guards had been out looking to recapture the slaves and he'd dreaded hearing news they'd been found.

Why wouldn't they just kill him and be done with it? Tyrion squirmed as much as he could, hoping to find a slightly more comfortable position. His mind pondered the question that had bothered him since arrival. Robin had told him plainly when Tyrion was dead he would seek to marry Sansa, though that didn't answer the question of why they'd kept him alive so long. It was as if they were waiting for something or someone. Tyrion closed his eyes and let his head drop forward. Was this justice for all the mistakes he'd made? He would die beaten and alone, shaming Sansa even in death. A lump formed in his throat at the thought of his Queen. She had trusted him when he hadn't deserved it. Certainly no-one else in the whole of Westeros would have wanted anything to do with him, and this is how he repays her kindness? Tyrion screwed his eyes shut, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. He wouldn't bring anymore shame on the Starks. Ned or Robb Stark would have fought valiantly to their last breath, dying with honour. Yet, he was a Lannister. A lone lion surrounded by wolves - and Lannister's were not honourable, nor did they deserve an honourable death.

* * *

Sansa examined the items set before her in the great hall. She was joined by Maester Wolkan and Arya; her sister's hand continuously brushing the hilt of her sword. The Queen in the North understood her agitation all too well. What they had before them was a puzzle. Arya had returned not long after midday with a package containing the blood soaked clothes of her husband, complete with pieces of his golden hair. She'd also found the man who had apparently paid someone to drop the package on the Kings Road, and he was now secured in their dungeon awaiting their attention.

Sansa's eyes lingered on the dark tunic and cloak now covered in a deep red. Her first reaction had been that Tyrion was surely dead. Even now the thought sent waves of grief through her. Arya had been quick to dispel that idea, pointing out the blood was mostly on the outside of the clothes and the cuts in the material weren't consistent with stab or slash wounds. Truthfully, her sister's knowledge unnerved her, but she was grateful for it all the same. The left sleeve of the material was stained red both inside and out and a slash above the sea of red indicated that most likely was from an injury. Sansa's face hardened; someone had hurt Tyrion and they would pay dearly for it. Aside from that the package indicated nothing about where her husband was being held or who had him.

Then there was the letter Sansa had received earlier today.

It was Maester Wolkan who lifted it from the table, reading its contents "Lannister's not only ones who pay debts. Last lion will die and justice be done"

"It's someone with a grudge against Tyrion, obviously" said Arya, as Wolkan passed her the letter "this writing is poor – could be brigands or sellswords"

"Yet there's been no ransom demand" said Sansa "I don't understand what they want"

Arya nodded "If they just wanted Tyrion dead they could have killed him rather than kidnap him"

A shudder went down Sansa's spine at the words. The thought had occurred to her already, and left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

"It's clear the package was merely a distraction" said Maester Wolkan "intended to send the search in a different direction"

"So, we'll expand the search in the opposite direction" said Sansa, eyes narrowing "I want the Wolfswood searched tomorrow. The Glovers haven't replied to my raven yet but I expect them to send some of their men to join the search tomorrow as well"

While Lord Cerwyn and Lady Tallhart had dispatched their guards as soon as the message was received the rest of the Northern houses would take slightly longer to receive their ravens due to their distance from Winterfell. Even so, Sansa expected them all to assist as quickly as Cley and Lady Tallhart had.

"Is there no clue who sent the letter?" asked Arya, placing it on the table

"Nothing obvious" said Maester Wolkan "though there is something rather familiar about it. I would like to study it more closely, your Grace, if you do not object?"

"By all means" said Sansa, nodding sharply to the older man "I believe it's time we visited the prisoner Arya"

* * *

It was early evening when Robin and Gawan came to him. By that point Tyrion was shivering against the cold as his head throbbed - he'd been starved all day and given nothing to drink. The cut across his arm from battling in the woods had stopped bleeding but the flesh still gaped open; it was a matter of time before infection set in.

Robin was normally quite good at hiding his displeasure, but as he leaned over the gate to Tyrion's stall his anger was plain to see.

"I need something from you" said Robin, sneering down at him

"You want my breeches too?" said Tyrion, tilting his head to one side

"Our men have been searching the Wolfswood for the slaves and found no trace of them"

"Did your men get confused? One tree looks very much like the other after all"

Robin's face curled into a snarl but Tyrion no longer cared. He was going to die here. Returning to Winterfell simply wasn't an option after what had been done to him.

Gawan was stood beside Robin, a cruel smile plastered over his face "For a small man you've caused us a rather big problem"

"I'll ask you again; where are our slaves?" said Robin

"How should I know?" said Tyrion, lifting his chained hands as much as he could "I've been sat in here"

"You're a clever man; you've hidden them somehow"

"I'm not that clever" said Tyrion, bitterness colouring his tone. If he was as smart as people thought none of this would have happened in the first place.

"You have a choice lord of Winterfell. You can tell me now what directions you gave them and where they're hiding – or I'll let Gawan take the answers from you. I had planned on keeping you in one piece for your execution" said Robin, shrugging "but I don't care much either way"

A shudder of fear went through Tyrion as he looked at Gawan's happy face. They hadn't found the girls which presumably meant his plan had worked. After discovering roughly where they were in the Wolfswood, Tyrion had recalled the old maps and lost routes he'd studied in the library. He remembered the conversation he'd had with Arya about a hidden path near Winterfell that ran towards Bear Island; though that night seemed a lifetime ago. The women were in no state to outrun their pursuers but if they'd found the path and it was useable there was a chance they could make it to Winterfell without being caught. Tyrion had killed the men who'd seen which direction the girls went in; the only other person who knew was himself.

"I am the lord of Winterfell" said Tyrion, gazing at his captors "and they are slaves no longer"

Robin's mouth fell into a tight line and he nodded sharply to Gawan, who entered the stall setting down a variety of tools beside him. The boy sat cross legged beside him, a cheerful smile on his face, before shoving Tyrion to one side and prodding the brand he'd made, sending shudders of pain through him at the touch.

"Looks good imp. No doubt who owns you now" he said, leaning closer to him "I hope you don't break too quickly – I'm hoping to enjoy this"

Tyrion fought to control his breathing as Gawan readied himself for whatever he was planning to do. He may have failed as Sansa's husband and the lord of Winterfell, but he wouldn't humiliate her any further. No matter what he wouldn't tell them where the girls had gone.

* * *

Arya appraised the man hanging in chains before her. He was big and brutish with a mess of dark hair and a scruffy beard. They'd found him not far from the inn where he'd given the package to Glenn. Apparently after fulfilling his duty he'd engaged in several rounds of heavy drinking, thus proving to Arya he wasn't the brains behind Tyrion's kidnapping. Anyone with a shred of sense would have left immediately. As it happened the Winterfell guards had easily apprehended the drunken man after Glenn had confirmed it was him. Arya had attempted to question him at the time but he was nearly unintelligible from drink – they'd been forced to wait several hours for him to sober enough to interrogate, leaving him in the Winterfell dungeons. His hands were chained and drawn above his head forcing him to stand up straight. Even so he leered at Sansa in a way that made Arya's hand tighten around her sword's hilt.

"Who are you?" asked Sansa, voice cold and calm as she stared at the man

"Name's Reg" he said, grinning at her

"I'm not sure why you look so happy" said Sansa, eyes narrowing "you're accused in the disappearance of my husband; Lord Tyrion Lannister"

"Guilty"

Arya's brow furrowed. Why did he seem so pleased about all this?

"What exactly are you confessing to?" asked Sansa, voice rising

"Me and my buddy Duke took the little bastard"

"Where is he?" said Sansa

"I aint telling you that"

"Yet you'll confess to his kidnapping"

The man leaned forward face turning dark "Your husband's a butcher, you know? He killed Duke and three more of my friends. He's getting what he deserves and it's still not enough"

"Your friend is dead?" said Sansa arching an eyebrow "Good. One less for me to kill when I find my husband"

"Duke was like a brother to me" said Reg, mouth curling into a scowl

Arya withdrew needle then, pointing it at the larger man "Then you'll understand. Tyrion is my brother. What do you think I'm going to do to you?"

Reg barked out a short laugh, cruel eyes watching them "The imp's as good as dead. Do your worst girl"

"That package was going to the Kings Road. Do you know what was in it?" asked Sansa

"Aye, of course I do. I held the little bastard down while they tore the clothes off him"

Arya saw Sansa flinch at the man's words, but her sister recovered quickly "I doubt your masters will be pleased you failed to follow orders. Surely getting so drunk you couldn't run and hide wasn't part of the plan?"

"I was drinking to honour Duke" said Reg, glowering at them "Besides your imp's got the same masters now – they've made sure he knows his place"

"Explain" said Sansa, her tone was clipped and deadly, but the man's face split into a smile.

"When you get his corpse, I want you to know I held him down while they did it. If I close my eyes I can still feel the little monster squirming in my grip. He struggled and struggled but I held him nice and tight, he soon stopped fighting when it was over. Pathet-"

Reg's words gave way to a cry of pain as needle sliced him across the face, drawing a deep line down his left eye.

"My eye!" he cried as blood streamed down his face "I can't see"

"Now that eye's permanently closed" said Arya, twisting the blade in her hands

The glee on his face as he recounted whatever torture they'd inflicted on Tyrion had been too much to listen to. Glancing at Sansa, Arya noted her sister's face had paled considerably at his words; though she retained her dignified posture. It was clear Reg wasn't particularly bright; all they really needed from him was a location.

"I'll ask again" said Sansa, voice trembling slightly "Where is Tyrion?"

"You won't save him!" said Reg, shaking his head as blood poured down his face "Not after what he did. Reckon the young lord's carving him up right now"

"We're done here" said Sansa, voice turning icy "He's all yours Arya"

The Queen in the North turned on her heel, striding from the dungeons even as Reg continued to shout after her; his voice echoing off the walls.

"I hope they send your dwarf back piece by piece!"

Arya strode towards the man, placing the tip of needle under his chin.

"Enough. The only words I want from you are a location" she said, grey eyes studying the man before her "It's been a while since I've poked a hole in someone, and you've made me rather angry. It's unwise to provoke a wolf"

"Think you scare me, girl?"

Reg's words were brave, but they were just words. The man was glancing around the area, breath coming in ragged bursts.

"I know I scare you" said Arya, lowering needle to the man's waist and slowly pushing it forwards.

* * *

"Aww, poor little lion - looks like you broke your paw"

_'You broke it'_ thought Tyrion, screwing his eyes shut as the cruel boy prodded his left arm.

Robin had left Gawan to his work after watching the young lord break two of the fingers on his left hand. No doubt it was revenge for the two fingers of Gawan's that Arya had impaled with a fork. From there the boy had unchained his left arm and pinned it beneath him, where he had then produced a hammer and taken great pleasure in seeing what he could break. Tyrion had struggled at first but his restraints made it near impossible and he'd been forced to accept he was at Gawan's mercy; not that he had any.

"So, are you going to tell me where those girls went?" said Gawan, maintaining his grip on his injured limb. Tyrion was in no doubt several bones in his hand were either cracked or broken; the appendage throbbed angrily and he dared not consider trying to free it from Gawan's grasp.

"No, I won't tell you" said Tyrion, turning to look the boy in the eyes "Your father is a decent enough man; he would be ashamed to see what you really are"

At his words Gawan's face turned pouty "All he wants is me to rule Deepwood Motte after him. Do you know how boring it is to rule? It's a lifetime of meetings, duty and pretending to care"

"I'm sure serving Robin and torturing me is much more enjoyable"

"I don't serve Robin - we're a team, imp. He can handle all the boring politics and I get to do what I enjoy"

Tyrion grimaced at his words. Gawan had put his hammer down on the straw covered floor and now lifted Tyrion's left arm up, the bones in his hand grinding painfully at the movement. He clamped his mouth shut; he would not scream no matter what. His right hand was still chained in front of him and the collar around his neck gave him no hope of moving away from the mad boy's torture.

"I like breaking things" said Gawan, crushing Tyrion's broken hand in his grip as he started to twist the limb "I prefer cutting things really, but we can't have you dying until your executioner arrives. Sure you don't want to tell me?"

He turned away from Gawan as his left wrist was twisted, tendrils of pain lancing up his arm as his hand was compressed and the wrist reached its maximum point.

"Come on Lannister; I want to hear you roar!" laughed Gawan, as he twisted the limb until a snap sounded in the stables. Black spots danced in his vision as his eyes slid shut and then open again. Agony enveloped his arm, reaching up to his shoulder and joining with the ever present ache of the brand on his back.

Rough hands grasped his face, twisting it to look into the amused eyes of Gawan.

"Aren't you a good little lord - trying to be as stoic and silent as the Starks. It won't work. You're not a Northerner, and you're not a wolf. You're a lonely little lion far from home. No-one in Westeros wanted you and no-one in the North wants you"

Tyrion's heart hammered against his chest at Gawan's words - they were far too accurate.

The heir to Deepwood Motte merely grinned at the pain spread over Tyrion's face "Hit a nerve did I? Tell me where the girls are and I'll leave you alone to face your past. I believe he intends a quick death, but it's hard to tell"

"Who?" said Tyrion through gritted teeth

"I'll tell you - if you tell me want I want to know"

Tyrion closed his mouth, glaring at the boy. He would find out sooner or later anyway, there was no way he would give them what they wanted.

"Suit yourself" said Gawan, reaching for the empty handcuff "I'll leave you to consider your options for a while. I've worked up quite the appetite from all this excitement"

His tormentor grasped his broken wrist with a squeeze, securing the heavy metal around it once more. Tyrion's body shook at the pain that exploded at the movement. The chains lay heavily against the broken bones and Tyrion's breathing grew ragged as Gawan patted him on the back - deliberately on the branded area.

Gawan went to the end of the stall, before turning back to Tyrion and sweeping his arms forward as he inclined his head "It's been a pleasure, my lord"

* * *

Sansa's hands shook as she took up her needlework project. Having finished stitching a lion on to Tyrion's tunic, she'd turned her attention to making him a blanket. She knew Tyrion didn't like the cold, and his kidnappers had taken his heavy clothes from him. When he returned Sansa would make sure he was warm and comfortable.

_'If you find him'_

The hour was growing late, but she couldn't bring herself to sleep - not after the interrogation of Reg. The man clearly knew where Tyrion was but wouldn't tell them; giving her only enough information to haunt her dreams. If Reg was to be believed, they had enacted some kind of punishment on Tyrion though he'd refused to tell them what. Sansa shook her head, forcing the vile thoughts away. The idea of anyone hurting her kind, gentle husband caused her stomach to churn.

_'This is your fault'_ taunted a voice _'You took him from his home. Look how you treated him…'_

Guilt swelled within Sansa as tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. She never wanted Tyrion to get hurt…she just wanted him to be with her. She loved Tyrion; everything she'd done had been to keep him close - to bind him to her forever.

_'You've betrayed him more than anyone else has'_

Sansa's hand brushed over the dark woollen material in her hands, eyes lingering on the golden lion she'd started. This would be her third night without him. For the past two days, she'd sought something of Tyrion to bring her some comfort, and a taste of reality had slapped her in the face. There was nothing of him in Winterfell; nothing to show a lion was lord of the castle. Sansa bit her lip recalling her time as Cersei's hostage in Kings Landing. After her father's death the Queen had gone through her room and had everything with a direwolf sigil removed and destroyed. All her gowns in Stark colours were taken and replaced with Lannister colours.

There had been no trace of Sansa Stark left when the Queen and Joffrey had finished with her. She'd been dressed up and paraded around like a shameful prize – the traitor's daughter. Until she'd married Tyrion in Kings Landing; her new husband had gifted her a lion necklace similar to Cersei's soon after the wedding. The sight of it had turned her stomach, until Tyrion had grinned up at her turning it over to show a direwolf engraved on the back.

"Never forget who you are" he'd told her, bright green eyes sparkling with warmth

She'd lost the necklace at some point after leaving Kings Landing; but Tyrion's kindness had stayed with her. Now shame swept through her. Had she truly been so cold to her husband - stripping away all that made him Tyrion and treating him as his sister had once treated her?

A knock on the door pulled Sansa from her despair, however briefly the respite was.

"Sansa it's me"

"Come in"

She placed her needlework to one side as her sister entered the room, dropping into the chair opposite her without enthusiasm.

"Well?" asked Sansa

Arya shook her head "I'm sorry, he wouldn't give a location"

"It's okay" sighed Sansa, eyes downcast "you did your best"

"We'll search the Wolfswood in the morning" said Arya "Cley's men's will stay near the Kingsroad and Lady Tallhart's men will join us in the Wolfswood"

Sansa nodded, twisting her hands in her lap.

"How are you coping Sansa?" asked Arya leaning towards her "We won't give up, I promise"

Sansa drew her mouth into a hard line, locking eyes with her sister "I'll be fine when Tyrion is back where he belongs"

Silence fell between them as the hearth crackled warmly. Sansa needed to stay strong, crumbling wasn't an option right now – but she couldn't help but wonder if Tyrion was warm at the moment. Was he scared? Had they actually hurt him? Sansa refused to believe it - who would dare to harm the Queen's husband?

"Did you notice Reg said 'the young lord' when he was talking about who had Tyrion?" mused Arya, drawing Sansa from her thoughts

"I did" said Sansa, mouth turning downwards into a frown "It could refer to anyone though"

"It could, but it could also mean he's being held in a keep somewhere if a lord has taken him"

"What lord would do such a thing? They would bring destruction on their house if it were true"

"Nothing about this makes sense" said Arya, slumping into the chair.

"It doesn't" agreed Sansa "The letter and the package both seem separate from each other – as if they were different plans by different people"

"Two lot's of people need to die then"

Sansa allowed a small smile at her sister's words. Whoever was responsible would die and if anyone had dared to hurt Tyrion they would suffer horribly for it.

_'Hold on, Tyrion. We're going to find you'_


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N - This chapter took a while but in my defence it's really long. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Sansa tossed and turned in the chair, hands clenching into fists as dark dreams haunted her sleep.

_She was trapped in her room at Winterfell, waiting for Ramsay to come to her. He always came. Every night was different, yet the same. The fact he used her and hurt her never changed, though each night taught her a different way to experience it. _

_"Hello wife" called Ramsay, slamming the door behind him with finality_

_Sansa sat by the unused hearth; a prisoner in her own home._

_"You should greet your husband after a hard day's work" he said, approaching her with that stupid grin across his face_

_Sansa shuddered at his approach "Hello, Ramsay"_

_"That's better. Now take your clothes off"_

_Cold, cruel eyes stared at Sansa as her body froze. She couldn't do it. Her breathing sped up. Ramsay would force her anyway; he always did._

_"Let me help you" he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the bed. His fingers dug into her arm as she was once again forced to lie on her stomach across the bed. Her stomach rolled, at the sound of clothes tearing behind her._

_"Please, no" said Sansa, voice breaking. She hated this so much. He bedded her like a dog. At first she'd though it was always like this, until he started bringing Miranda into their bed and forcing her to watch them. Then she knew it didn't have to be like this._

_"What you want doesn't matter" hissed Ramsay in her ear as the cold of the room tickled her exposed skin "You're mine to do with as I like"_

_Ramsay slammed into her from behind as Sansa clung to the bed, a sob building in her throat. _

_Her world turned, changing the images. She was still in bed, but this time she was on top, pinning someone beneath her as she moved herself up and down in a rhythm. It was different now, she had the power; it was intoxicating._

_"I promised to never hurt you" whispered a heartbroken voice _

_Sansa looked down to find Tyrion lying beneath her, green eyes watery and filled with hurt._

_"Tyrion, I-" she started, horror filing her_

_"This is duty" he said, eyes downcast "I understand"_

_Sansa reached down to touch his face, but her hand went through him as if he were a ghost._

_"I'm sorry" she said, tears running down her face "Tyrion, please don't go"_

_"You deserve better"_

_"No. I'm so sorry! Stay, please"_

_Sobs wracked Sansa as she tried to touch him, until a growing pool of red caught her eye. Her body shook as her eyes traced the source, looking down to find Tyrion covered in blood beneath her. The sticky redness extended from him, spreading across the bed. _

_"Tyrion, stay with me!" she begged, as his image grew fainter "We'll fix this…I'll get help. Please, don't go"_

_Sansa's eyes darted around the room, frantically searching for help. _

_"You can't save me" he said, resignation on his face as he faded to nothing beneath her_

_"Tyrion!" she screamed, tears coursing down her face "No…no….please!"_

Sansa woke with a start, dislodging the needlework in her lap that landed with a thud on the ground. Her chest heaved as she sucked in breath after breath, her heart pounding painfully against her chest. Just a dream, she told herself. A nightmare; it wasn't real. The hearth still burned lightly beside her and Sansa realised she'd fallen asleep in the chair. The bed had been unused since Tyrion was taken.

Fear and guilt fought for dominance in her emotions. Reg's words from the interrogation haunted her. The man had been convinced whoever had Tyrion was hurting him. Then there was her own guilt for treating her husband so poorly. While it may have been a dream it had been inspired by her own memories of Ramsay's cruelty - and her own.

Sansa settled into the chair once more, retrieving her needlework project. The golden lion was taking shape in the centre of the design and she traced her fingers gently over the thread.

_'I miss you'_ she thought, dampness gathering in the corner of her eyes. She wouldn't cry; Queens couldn't cry.

_'Go away inside. They can't hurt you there'_

Tyrion tried to heed the advice his brother had given him in childhood. He'd never been particularly good at his brother's coping mechanism but staring into the manic eyes of Gawan Glover he found himself willing to give it another chance.

"Where should I cut you first?" he said, waving the knife in front of Tyrion's chest

It was late in the night when Tyrion had awoken to Gawan crouching over him, humming the Rains of Castamere. The tune was haunting at the best of the times, but particularly so when a deranged boy with a knife was eyeing you like a piece of meat. He'd always hated that song; it epitomised his family's cruelty and nothing else. It was snowing outside the stable and Tyrion shuddered against the biting cold. The boy had brought a torch with him that now sat in a holder to one side, casting some meagre warmth into the stall as it bathed it in an orange light. The effect was unsettling as it gave Gawan an eerie, monstrous appearance.

_'He's just a spoilt, cruel boy – like Joffrey'_ thought Tyrion, fixing his face into a look of disinterest

"You've had your fun Lannister. Now tell me where the slaves are hiding. You're running out of time to save yourself some pain" said Gawan, tracing the tip of the knife lazily over Tyrion's exposed chest

"Isn't it past your bed time?" said Tyrion, voice coming out much weaker than he intended

Gawan's grin turned to a sneer "I know where I'll start"

Tyrion couldn't escape as Gawan clamped a hand around his upper left arm, digging his knife into the slash wound he'd received in the wolfswood. He gritted his teeth as the knife sliced through his skin extending the injury. Warmth spread down his arm as fresh blood leaked from the gash, dripping onto his breeches and the ground beneath him.

His tormentor pulled back as Tyrion sucked in a breath, trying to ignore the red that spread over him. How much longer could this go on? He hadn't wanted to be lord of Winterfell – he didn't deserve the title at all, but he was the lord and his duty was to protect its people. He wouldn't tell Gawan or Robin anything; no matter how much it hurt.

The heir to Deepwood Motte looked rather displeased. His mouth formed a tight line as he waved the blood soaked knife in front of Tyrion. The lack of reaction was clearly bothering Gawan and Tyrion had no intention of giving him one.

"You're making this difficult dwarf" said Gawan "I might need to take more extreme measures"

"As you wish" said Tyrion leaning his pounding head back against the wall

"Think I'll cut your cock off"

The words sent a whole new terror crashing through Tyrion as his heart slammed against his chest.

_'Go away inside. Go away inside'_ he thought, a cold sweat forming on his back.

"Maybe your balls instead" mused Gawan, tracing the edge of the knife lightly over his breeches searching for his prize "or maybe both. Weren't you friends with the eunuch? You could be one too"

Gods, the boy was going to mutilate him. Tyrion forced his body to stay still, refusing to react as Gawan edged the tip of his knife into the laces of his breeches. Further on the blade went until Tyrion felt the very tip of the weapon against his cock.

"Where are the slaves?" asked Gawan, halting the knife's descent "I could send your bits to Sansa as a wedding gift when she marries Robin. Do you think she'd like that? Think how smooth you'll be down there when those pesky bits are gone"

The agony that had enveloped Tyrion's body all day faded away as every fibre of his being became focused on the knife hovering on the edge of his manhood. The steel was cold against his skin as the point of the blade pricked him; a promise of the pain to come. A single thrust would alter his life forever.

The stalemate crept on, each waiting for the other to break.

Tyrion dared not move or breathe, as his mind struggled to come to terms with the impending mutilation. He became aware of the knife moving and braced for the agony that was sure to follow. Instead, the knife moved out of his breeches and the cold steel was pressed against his face instead.

"Maybe not. Just the thought of getting that close to your dirty little cock makes me nauseous" said Gawan, wrinkling his nose "Did Sansa throw up at the sight of you naked? Stunted little monster"

Tyrion let out a breath even as Gawan grabbed a fistful of his hair, pushing his head tight to the wall. Sansa had wanted children; if Gawan had carried through on his threat he'd have been useless to her. He swallowed hard thinking of Sansa. It wouldn't have made any difference really; he would never see Sansa again and it was probably for the best she didn't have his children. Although, as the knife had entered his breeches, Tyrion had been unexpectedly grieved at the possibility of never being a father. It wasn't something he'd ever wanted until the chance was nearly taken from him. Had Varys ever wanted to be a father? He wondered if his old friend would have laughed at Tyrion suffering the same fate - particularly after the ball jokes he'd once made. He doubted it. Varys had never mocked him; he would likely be horrified at someone else suffering the same mutilation as him.

"I thought interrogating you would be much easier" said Gawan, brandishing the knife in front of Tyrion's face "Figured one taste of real pain would have you begging for mercy. Your defiance is becoming a problem. It's a very undesirable quality in a pet you know"

"I'm not your pet" said Tyrion, trying and failing to free his head from Gawan's grasp.

A grin split Gawan's face "The collar around your neck and my brand on your back tells a very different story. As a responsible owner it's my duty to teach you your place"

The knife slid against his face, still slick with blood from his arm.

"That's an interesting scar you have across the face. Bet it hurt a lot" said Gawan, face curling "I could give you a matching one on the other side, even up your appearance"

_'Go away inside'_ commanded Jamie's voice

Tyrion tried to draw back from the knife as it teased the skin above his right eye. Gawan's grip tightened on his head, pinning him in place even as he withdrew the blade.

"Then again - why settle for a copy over the original?"

The tip of the knife descended into the scar over Tyrion's left eye, and the boy drew the knife downwards as slowly as possible. As his old wound was reopened, Tyrion tried desperately to ignore the pain that wracked his body. Surely he couldn't survive much longer? He was only a small man; his body would give out soon. He wasn't strong and powerful like Jamie or Jorah. His big brother had survived months as the Stark's prisoner of war, yet Tyrion had barely survived a few days with a couple of stupid boys.

* * *

The sun was only just rising when Arya woke to a knock on her door. Already a light sleeper, she rolled quickly out of bed; instantly alert.

"Who's there?"

"Lady Arya…it's me" sniffed a small voice

The tension drained from Arya and she opened the door to find Nessa staring up at her with big, teary eyes.

"Sorry to bother you Lady Arya…I just wondered if you'd found Tyrion yet"

Arya's heart twisted at the sight of the girl. Since he'd disappeared Nessa had looked totally lost wandering around Winterfell. Her mood seemed to alternate between hopeful of finding Tyrion and grief-stricken they hadn't.

"Not yet" said Arya, bending down to match the girls height "But we're going to search the Wolfswood today"

"Do you think Tyrion's ok?"

It was such an innocent question. Arya loathed killing her hope, but if he wasn't alright Nessa should be prepared. It was clear to everyone except Tyrion how much the girl adored him.

"I'm not sure Nessa" she said evenly "but I know he'll be doing his best to hang on until we rescue him"

The girl looked at her with sad eyes "Can I come with you? Tyrion says I'm clever - I could help"

"You'd be a great help, but I need your help here more" said Arya, smiling at her

"I'll do anything" she said, nodding eagerly

"You've been my eyes and ears in the village, looking for anything suspicious. It's really important you keep doing that"

Nessa deflated at being assigned the same task she'd been carrying out since Tyrion disappeared, but there wasn't much else she could do to help.

"Okay" said Nessa with a small nod "Everyone in the village is looking out for him too. I keep checking with them to see if there's any news"

"Good" said Arya, mussing the girl's hair as she straightened up "When we find Tyrion, I'll let you know straight away - but he might not be able to see you for a little while"

Arya was in no doubt Tyrion had been hurt by his captors. The man she'd interrogated hadn't given details of what had been done, but he hadn't been lying either - no matter how much Sansa wanted to believe his words were false.

"He's hurt, isn't he?" asked Nessa, face crumpling

The quickness of the girl surprised Arya, cutting through her attempts to soften her words. She was clever for her age, and Arya had no doubt who'd been teaching her to use her intelligence.

"We won't know until we find him, but he'll definitely need some rest when he gets back"

"Tyrion doesn't like sleep" said Nessa, solemnly "he says he doesn't like his dreams"

* * *

Bran observed his small council. It wasn't complete yet, but it was heading in the right direction. Ser Davos occupied the hand's chair at the top of the table with Ser Bronn to his right and Ser Brienne to his left. Ser Podrick was behind Bran, having pushed his wheelchair into the room. Grand Maester Samwell Tarly was absent as Bran had requested – this didn't concern him after all.

"Sit down Ser Podrick, this matter concerns you too"

The young man looked startled but dutifully sat next to Brienne, as Bran's gaze swept over them.

"I gave orders that none of you were to communicate with Tyrion Lannister following his exile" he said, watching them each in turn "Yet I've intercepted communication intended for him"

Silence reigned in the chamber, the King's council exchanging uncertain looks.

"It was me, your Grace. I wrote to Lord Tyrion and sent him some books" said Pod, redness colouring his face

"You admit to it readily?"

"I do, your Grace. I'll accept whatever punishment you see fit" said Pod head hanging low

Ser Davos and Ser Brienne exchanged glances before sighing.

"If you punish Pod, you must also punish me, your Grace" said Brienne, eyes holding Bran's gaze "I wrote to him as well and sent him some of Jamie's things I recovered from the wreckage. As lord commander it is unacceptable to disobey your order"

"I'm also guilty" said Ser Davos, tapping his hand against the table "Wrote to him and sent him a cloak. It's bloody cold up North"

"I see" said Bran, taking in the various looks of shame that crossed their faces. He knew what they'd done already – Samwell Tarly had discovered the messages addressed to Tyrion and brought them to his attention after all. The grand Maester was oblivious of who had sent them, but then he wasn't Tyrion's friend and writing to a man he barely knew wouldn't have crossed his mind.

Ser Bronn leaned back in his chair eyeing them with amusement "You lot should be ashamed. Disobeying King Bran when he made it clear he didn't want none of us talking to the little shit"

"Any of us" muttered Ser Davos, shooting the Master of Coin a glare

Bran turned his gaze to Ser Bronn "You've not written to your old friend?"

"Absolutely not"

"He barely knows how to write" added Brienne, voice filled with contempt

"You'd be surprised what I know" said Bronn

Ser Davos sighed "I can't judge a man for his education. A little girl taught me to read"

"Nah, you just correct the way I talk" said Bronn with a snort

The King's face remained neutral; as much as their bickering amused him "I believe Ser Bronn did not write to Tyrion"

Bronn spread his hands "Well, there you have it"

"But you do have your men at the Twins searching everyone who wishes to cross. You gave them orders to look out for a dwarf with a scarred face"

Bronn shifted in his chair "Well he's banished from the six kingdoms - can't have him sneaking back in"

"How dutiful of you" said Bran, smiling serenely "Tell me Ser Bronn; did you send him that dagger out of duty too?"

Bronn crossed his arms defensively "What? It's dangerous up North. A bear could try an eat him - gotta give the poor sod a chance. I'd hate for your poor sister to be a widow again"

Brienne snorted "You'd have us believe it was all for Sansa? How selfless of you"

"You were condemning us and you're just as guilty" said Davos, jabbing a finger at him

Bronn threw his hands up "Guess my head will be on a spike with the rest of ya then"

"You think I'll take your heads?" asked Bran, mouth twitching upwards

It was Brienne who answered "We disobeyed your order, my King. It was dishonourable of us"

Bran tilted his head, turning to face Podrick "What were my orders again, Ser Podrick?"

His sworn shield wouldn't meet his gaze as he answered "None of us were to visit or communicate with Lord Tyrion while he was in Kings Landing or write to him when he went North"

Bronn sat forward "See, I didn't write to him. I obeyed"

"Oh shut up" said Brienne, leaning back in her chair

"Both of ya, enough. It's clear we're all guilty" cut in Davos, eyes flicking between them

"Yes, you all disobeyed" agreed Bran, gazing at Ser Davos across the table "Perhaps the hand of the King can explain why"

Ser Davos glanced at the rest of the small council before answering "Well, your orders seemed a bit harsh, your Grace"

"Cruel" said Podrick, lifting his head "Lord Tyrion is a good man, he didn't deserve to be left alone in that cell for weeks"

"The lad's got the right of it. Not like he was the one breathing fire over Kings Landing. All those unsullied slaughtered the city and were given ships and plenty of coin and sent on their way" put in Bronn

"I don't know Tyrion very well. I only met him briefly but from what Jamie told me about him" said Brienne swallowing hard "Jamie was the only family who loved him and he died. Leaving him alone – seemed cruel"

"I see" said Bran, taking in their guilty faces "Tyrion's been gone for months, yet you all reach out to him now?"

"We tried to follow your orders" said Davos, shifting in his seat "but when you said he was suffering..."

"We felt bad for him" finished Bronn, a sour look on his face

None of them would meet Bran's gaze as he looked around the room. He'd sent a raven a few days ago to his sisters; before Tyrion disappeared. He'd seen glimpses of what the future could bring and sought to give them some warning; however vague. Things were too far gone now. He hadn't told anyone the things he'd seen through the raven's eyes. There was so much suffering - Bran had wondered if he could have prevented it. Had he known then what he did now, Sansa's request might have been refused. There was no point dwelling on that now though. What had happened could not be changed and the old Gods would only show him so much. Their power was in the North and Tyrion was beyond his ability to help. He could warg into any animal; yet whenever he drew near Tyrion his power failed him - allowing him to see only what the old Gods wanted. The best he could do was watch over his brother through the raven's eyes. Bran sighed. There was nothing any of them could do now that would help.

"I believe you are all correct - and I won't punish any of you" he said, weariness settling over him "It was a mistake to stop communication with Tyrion, but there is nothing we can do to help him"

Podrick's face fell "Yes, your Grace"

The others echoed his words without enthusiasm.

Bran leaned forwards in his chair "I won't let you send your messages to Tyrion now; the outcome in the North is not yet clear"

Again, reluctant nods of agreement followed his words. The three-eyed raven could see glimpses of the future and instinct urged him to wait, however much Bran Stark agreed with the council.

Podrick raised his eyes to Bran, adding quietly "Is he suffering much, your Grace?"

Bran's face was grim as he answered "I fear so – but this is a battle the lord of Winterfell must win alone"

"Sansa will take care of him" said Brienne, laying a hand on Podrick's shoulder

Bran's mouth turned downwards. His sister had many of her own demons to battle, but her actions so far offered him no such hope. Bran had trusted Sansa and she'd let him down; putting the whole of the North at risk as well as hurting Tyrion.

_'The chance of the successful future I saw grows slimmer each day_' mused Bran _'but it's still there – a tiny shred of hope'_

* * *

Arya clutched the message in her fist as she hurried towards her sister's room. It was still early in the morning and the search parties were just beginning to go out. Arya had been preparing to join them when Maester Wolkan had found her, delivering a message bearing Bran's three-eyed raven sigil. She hadn't written to Bran for help in the end. By the time her message would have arrived and a response came back to Winterfell it could have been a week. Yet her brother had written to her anyway; and his words were cutting.

The wooden door offered little resistance as she barged in, disturbing Sansa as she sat doing needlework. The sight might have annoyed her if Arya didn't know it was her sister's way of coping.

"Arya, is there news?" said Sansa, instantly rising; her face looked worn and worried

"We need to talk. Bran sent a message"

Her sister nodded, returning to her seat and gesturing for Arya to occupy the one opposite.

"What did he say?" asked Sansa, a hopeful look crossing her tired face "Does he know where Tyrion is?"

Wordlessly, Arya handed the note to her sister. She'd read the message several times already.

_Arya,_

_I promised Sansa I would keep her secret, but she also promised to look after Tyrion. You've been trying to help him, but you don't know the full story. Ask Sansa the truth. The time for secrets has come to an end._

_Be prepared for what you find._

_Bran_

"Well?" asked Arya, watching her sisters face pale as she read the note

"Bran could have helped us. He must know something about what's been happening"

Arya's brow furrowed. It bothered her too that their brother hadn't offered more assistance. Tyrion was his brother by law, yet all he sends is cryptic clues. Still, Arya had come for answers, not to complain about Bran's detachment.

"What's the secret Sansa?"

"I really think there are more important things to be doing"

"This is about Kings Landing, isn't it?"

Sansa's face tightened at the words and Arya knew she was near the target.

"We should be looking for Tyrion..." said Sansa, avoiding her gaze

"Bran wasn't going to take his head, was he?" said Arya, pieces falling into place "You asked for Tyrion to be sent North"

Her sister sagged against the chair, guilt spreading over her face "I did"

"What happened?" asked Arya, leaning forwards in her seat. Something had bothered her in Kings Landing about why Sansa was taking Tyrion North but at the time she'd accepted her sister's vague reasoning without asking for details. Not this time. Bran may not be particularly easy to communicate with, but Arya trusted him. If he said there could be no more secrets; there was a reason.

Sansa straightened in her chair, lifting her chin "I asked Bran to banish Tyrion and give him to me. I wanted him to help me rebuild the North"

"You took away his home"

The accusation hung in the air between them.

"This is his home" said Sansa, doubt flickering across her icy facade

"Is it?"

"Of course it is. He's my husband; we're his family now"

"Do you think Tyrion knows that? I've been trying to convince him since he got here, but he doesn't believe me" said Arya with a shrug "Have you actually looked at him? I mean really looked at him since he came to Winterfell"

"I look at him all the time"

"But you don't see him do you?" said Arya, shaking her head "You see the man you married in Kings Landing – not the man he's become. Gods Sansa, can you really not see it? He acts like this is his prison, not his home"

It was a hard truth, but it was past time Sansa heard it. Arya had no doubt her sister had seen the change in Tyrion, she just couldn't accept it. Her sister had married the ghost of a man she once knew. Even now as the truth was laid out for Sansa and her doubts began to show, her sister was visibly struggling to accept it.

"What I did was awful" admitted Sansa, dropping her gaze "but Tyrion's adjusted to the North, he's a great lord of Winterfell"

"What was Bran going to do with him – before you intervened?"

"Tyrion would have been made hand of the King and inherited his family's land and titles" said Sansa, voice growing quiet

"Instead he's an exile banished to the North. His house and family name wiped out. Living like a shadow in Winterfell"

Sansa's shoulders slumped "I never meant to hurt him, I just wanted him here"

Arya's fingers drummed against the chair, grey eyes staring at her sister. What Sansa had done was selfish. She could dress it up however she liked, giving it whatever rationale she chose but it ultimately came down to what Sansa wanted. It was infuriating; Arya loved her sister dearly, but she'd grown to love Tyrion as her brother too. While Tyrion had all her sympathy in this, she wasn't completely cold to Sansa. What she'd suffered at the hands of Cersei, Joffrey, Ramsay and Petyr had impacted her hugely. It was hard to fault her sister for wanting one of the few people she trusted by her side; but Sansa was using Tyrion like a comfort blanket. Someone safe and familiar to cling to and it wasn't fair to him. He'd lost his family, suffered injustice and cruelty his whole life; he needed help as much as Sansa did.

"You're going to tell Tyrion everything" said Arya, locking eyes with her sister "Or I will"

"He'll hate me for it"

"He'd be justified" said Arya, seeing Sansa flinch "but he could never hate you"

"I know I've not treated him well" said Sansa lifting her gaze to meet Arya's "but when he's home, I'll tell him everything. I can fix this and Tyrion will be fine. Everything will be better; I'll make sure of it. He's been in bad situations before and come out on top"

Arya stared at her sister. Sansa's gaze was fierce, yet held softness when she spoke of Tyrion. It was naive of course; her hope that everything would be fine. It brought back childhood memories of Sansa before she hid behind her wall of ice.

"Do you actually love Tyrion?" said Arya, face tightening

"More than anything"

"That's all he wants, you know - your love. He doesn't think you could ever love him"

Sansa shook her head vigorously, denying her words "Of course I do. He knows that"

Arya swallowed hard. The real Sansa wasn't completely lost behind the crown she wore. The girl who dreamed of knights and romance was still there – but Arya feared her inability to see the uncomfortable truths that surrounded her would only bring her pain. She had to make her understand that her actions had consequences; no matter what rationale she gave them.

"Do you actually understand what a horrible thing you've done?" said Arya, crossing her arms and steeling her gaze "You took everything from him. It's not much different to what Cersei did to you"

Her sister's face tightened at her words "It's nothing like that"

"Yes it is. Taken far from home, unable to leave and forced to marry. He's your hostage to do with as you like"

"That's not true!" said Sansa, face contorting in anger

Before Arya could argue her point a frantic knock sounded on the door "Your Grace, lady Arya; urgent news!"

"Enter" called Sansa, standing up. Her ice Queen facade back in place

Lyle rushed into the room, panting heavily "Some of the guards found a large group of women not far from Winterfell"

"And? We're looking for my husband" said Sansa, eyes narrowing.

"They've seen him; he's being kept in the Wolfswood"

Arya was on her feet in an instant while Sansa stood rooted to the spot.

"Sansa" said Arya, reaching out to touch her sister's arm "I'll bring him home, I promise"

"I'm coming too" said Sansa

"You can't. It's way too risky"

Sansa's eyes sparked dangerously "I'm going"

"No, you're not"

"Your Grace, the women are being brought into Winterfell. They claim they were being held as slaves to be sold in Essos" cut in Lyle, glancing between the two sisters "One of them is demanding to speak to you. Says she owes Lord Tyrion her life"

Arya moved in front of her sister "Stay and find out what they know. We'll find Tyrion. Please Sansa I can't risk anything happening to you too"

Lyle nodded "The woman gave us directions; the horses are being readied now. Some of the Cerwyn and Tallhart men are coming too"

Indecision tore across her sister's face, before her shoulders slumped in defeat "Very well. When you find who took him, I want them alive. Bring Tyrion home as quickly as possible"

Arya's face tightened at her sister's command. As much as she wanted revenge, Tyrion was the priority. Bring him home, than take vengeance against his abductors.

* * *

Tyrion's head throbbed painfully as the light of the morning entered the barn. Some of the guards had returned empty handed from searching the Wolfswood and the horses were now in stalls beside his own. At least they hadn't found the girls. If they'd been recaptured his suffering would have been for nothing. He tried to comfort himself with the thought they wouldn't be sold into slavery, but it did nothing to ease his pain. Blood trickled down his face and onto his chest as he tilted his head to one side.

Gawan had cut open the scar across his face; though no-where near as deep as the original injury had been. Cutting too deeply in his weakened state could well have killed him so the boy had pushed the knife in just enough to reopen it and send streams of warm blood down his face. Already the wound was drying up but the damage had been done. Broken, branded and utterly humiliated; he hoped Sansa never saw him again.

He'd resolved to show no weakness, to be numb to whatever they did to him – but it was so hard. Tyrion wanted Jamie to be with him; to take him home. Instead, his only company was the few horses in the stalls beside him and a raven sat on the gate in front of him. The bird observed him with curious eyes, no doubt contemplating whether he was suitable food.

Tyrion's mind drifted to the executioner Gawan had mentioned. His mind drifted a lot these days; it was hard to keep track of his thoughts. If it was true, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to kill him. Who would want him dead? Tyrion laughed. He was a Lannister – everyone wanted him dead. He found he didn't care who killed him. All those years of fighting to live didn't matter now, his end was near.

The raven appeared to be staring at him, dark eyes locked on to him.

"Come to laugh at me too?" asked Tyrion, voice barely a whisper "I don't mind, I'm used to it"

The bird cocked his head to one side still studying him and Tyrion closed his eyes once more. He hated being stared at. There were times when he'd made it work for him, and in his younger years any kind of attention had been good – but he'd grown to resent it. The attention never brought him comfort, never gave him real satisfaction. People gave him their attention because they either wanted something or they were mocking him – never because they cared.

_'Wretched little monster'_ whispered Cersei's voice _'You deserve all of this'_

Snow was falling outside the barn again, large flakes giving the ground a fresh coating. Tyrion shivered, unable to move from his position. The slightest movement sent waves of agony through his badly damaged left arm and the collar around his neck chafed whenever he turned his head. It was so frustrating, Tyrion wanted to cry. It was freezing and he'd never liked the cold. Surely death wouldn't be long now?

* * *

Sansa appraised the wildling woman before her. She'd gone to the great hall to find forty women waiting for her, some as young as ten and four. All of them had black collars around their necks and were covered in filthy rags. Her stomach twisted; was Tyrion in a similar condition?

One of the older women had approached, calling herself Rose. The wildling had scraggy black hair and looked to be no more than thirty, but the fierceness in her eyes made it obvious she had led them to safety. Sansa had given orders for the collars to be removed and food to be given to the girls - her servants were left in charge of their care. Wildlings or not, Sansa had a certain empathy with the younger girls. Looking at their terrified faces was like remembering her own younger years in Kings Landing; far from home and afraid.

Now she sat opposite Rose, with Maester Wolkan at her side in the small chamber she used for meetings.

"You wished to speak to me?" asked Sansa, chin held high

"Aye, thought you'd want to hear the whole story of what happened" said Rose, meeting her gaze without difficulty

"Free folk do not kneel. Why would you want to speak to a Queen?"

Sansa knew she was being rude but her nerves were more frayed than she would care to admit. However the wildling had information, and was willing to share it - as Queen she had a duty to listen.

'Do not be ruled by emotion' Sansa chastised herself 'emotion makes you weak and weakness makes you vulnerable'

Rose raised an eyebrow "I owe the little lion a debt - we all do. It's right you know what happened"

"Perhaps you could tell us the specifics?" prompted Maester Wolkan "We are aware girls and women were being taken from the Gift and a few had gone missing from villages near Winterfell"

"Yet the Queen did nothing"

Sansa's hands curled into fists "Free folk have no Queen and are therefore not under my protection"

"Some of those girls were under your protection" said Rose, eyes burning "I was one of the last women to get taken and I know this problem was brought to your court Queen in the North - and you did nothing. I know things only got done when it was brought to Tyrion's attention. Deke's granddaughter was taken by those bastards and the poor sod came here desperate for help. You turned him away but your husband didn't"

Sansa's nostrils flared, but it was Maester Wolkan who intervened "Yes, Lord Tyrion was working with a man called Deke to track the disappearances. What happened to you all? Some of those young girls have wasted away to nothing"

"Aye, best you know the whole thing. I was taken prisoner along with another girl near the Gift. Five men attacked us out of nowhere and put us in chains. Next thing we're in the back of a cart travelling for days until we're brought to this camp. They put collars round our necks and chained us up in a barn like animals - some of those girls had been in that barn for weeks" said Rose, venom in her voice "They was going to ship us to Essos and sell us as slaves"

"How did you meet Lord Tyrion?" asked Wolkan, eyebrows drawing together

Sansa observed the woman carefully as her heart beat sped up. She was desperate for information on Tyrion.

"They brought him in a few days ago and tied him to a post outside the barn. A panel was loose and I could see from it. He talked to me and made a plan. He killed one of the guards and helped us escape the barn, giving us directions to some forgotten path through the Wolfswood he'd read about. He said if we could find it, it might hide us from them – and it did" the wildling turned to Sansa then, eyes full of pity "He was escaping with us but some of the men followed. Tyrion had a sword from the guard he killed. The little lord told us to go and he held them off. Don't know what happened after that"

Sansa didn't care about the wildlings or how they'd escaped, but panic flooded her at the thought of Tyrion in battle "Who took you? Who has my husband?"

Rose sighed, shaking her head "There was two lords running in. I only caught glimpses of them through the panel cause they never come in the barn - always sending guards in. Tyrion knew them though. When he came they was taunting him, I think one was called Robin and the other was Gawan"

"Robin Flint and Gawan Glover?" coldness swept through Sansa, it couldn't be true. They were her friends, weren't they? Surely they wouldn't have taken her husband away from her. Gawan was the heir to Deepwood Motte and Robin was a strong Northern lord - this couldn't be true.

"I don't know – but they was definitely lords. They told Tyrion when he was dead Robin would marry you. One of them was scruffy and wild looking – I saw him shoving the little lord's face into a bowl of food and making him eat like a dog. I heard his voice more often than the other one" said Rose, eyes growing hard "he was a cruel bastard"

Fear consumed her as the woman's words sunk in. They were going to kill Tyrion. Her breathing sped up as the image of Arya bringing home a corpse came to mind. The last time she'd seen Tyrion he'd been sound asleep in their bed. She'd kissed him and told his sleeping form she cared for him. It wasn't enough, thought Sansa, remembering the frown on her husband's face as he slept.

Sansa's heart had urged her to wake him up and apologise for treating him so poorly. She'd wanted to pull him close until the sadness left his face and his eyes sparked with warmth once more. Yet, she hadn't done any of those things and now she wouldn't get the chance. Arya's words from earlier came back to her. Did Tyrion know she loved him? Arya didn't think so. Gods, she'd been so cold to him. What kind of wife leaves her husband in any doubt of her affection?

A hand touched her arm, startling her from her thoughts "Are you alright, your Grace?"

The Maester's face was pulled into a frown, but Sansa ignored his question, turning instead to Rose "Did they hurt him? How was he treated?"

The woman tilted her head to one side before replying "He was tied to a post outside for a day and it was bloody cold. The back of his head was covered in blood when they brought him in, but they mostly left him alone apart from feeding him like a dog"

"Thank you for your information. Maester Wolkan will see you are all given proper care" said Sansa voice thick

"Your husband's a hero, you know?" said Rose, eyes locking on to her as she stood "I hope you find him in time - I owe him a debt"

Sansa thanked the woman once more and watched her and Maester Wolkan leave. She didn't want her husband to be a hero - she just wanted him home. From what Rose had told her he hadn't been badly hurt, but that was before he helped the women escape and Reg had hinted that they'd punished him for something. A shiver crept down Sansa's spine back as she folded her arms across her chest.

Robin and Gawan.

Could they really have done this? The wildling woman had been blunt and truthful with Sansa, and she didn't doubt she'd heard those names. She didn't want to believe they would betray her. There'd been so much betrayal in her life already; men she thought she could trust who turned out to be false. Sansa had learned from her experience and she was wary now - or so she'd thought. Logically, the evidence piled up that it was Robin Flint and Gawan Glover. Both had sought her affection and been rejected. Both had taken 'hunting trips' together, though Gawan more often than Robin. Both were gone now and Tyrion had disappeared not long after. The man they'd interrogated had spoken as if there was more than one person in charge.

Robin's arrogant face came to mind; she'd seen a lust for power lurking below the surface but continued to trust him as an advisor. Sansa shuddered. They wanted to kill Tyrion and then marry her off to Robin - the match would have been approved by her council if she was widowed. She could have unknowingly wed her husband's murderer.

What truly turned her stomach was Gawan. The petulant boy had often taunted Tyrion, but she'd let him carry on; dismissing it for the sake of not offending the other lords. Had the jokes and sneers hurt Tyrion - or that Sansa hadn't defended him against their words? Then there was Gawan's grinning face as he held up the mangled rabbit he'd killed for dinner…

_'Stop'_ Sansa told herself, screwing her eyes shut_ 'don't go there. Tyrion will be fine, he's always fine. I'll make this up to him somehow'_

Tyrion was the one man who'd never betrayed her; who she trusted fully without question.

_'Yet, you betrayed him'_ whispered her mind _'He's at the mercy of monsters because of you'_

Alone in the council room, Sansa let out a shaky breath as her hands trembled. She had to be strong; this was no time to fall apart. All she could do was wait and hope.

* * *

Darkness was falling once more when Robin Flint entered Tyrion's stall. He'd been left mostly alone since Gawan's visit earlier that morning, as more and more guards returned empty handed from the Wolfswood. A guard had come to Tyrion twice throughout the day and forced water down his throat - proving they still wanted him alive for some reason. Tyrion's whole body throbbed as he lay shivering against the wall. He'd been starved and beaten, weakening him to the point where he could barely lift his head when Robin approached him.

"You little bastard"

Robin's face curled into a scowl as he lifted his foot and kicked Tyrion hard in the ribs. He was helpless to avoid the blows as Robin pulled his foot back again and again, each kick stealing his breath and sending waves of pain through his chest.

The lord of Widow's Watch crouched down beside Tyrion, gripping his face tightly "You ruined everything"

"Good" mumbled Tyrion, struggling to breathe.

Robin's eyes bulged and he shifted his weight to straddle Tyrion, shoving his broken wrist to one side causing the multitude of broken bones to grind against each other. Tyrion clamped his mouth shut, as the world swum before his eyes - he wouldn't make a sound.

"Look at the state of you" said Robin "Sansa will be ashamed when she gets your corpse"

Tyrion didn't respond, instead focusing on the floor to one side.

_'Go away inside little brother'_ whispered Jamie _'they can't get you there'_

"Why won't you speak!" said Robin, slamming his fist into Tyrion's chest again and again "You could have spared yourself all this, if you'd told us where the slaves had gone"

"Not worth it" said Tyrion, voice hoarse

The young lord had always been the calm, collected one between him and Gawan. Tyrion had thought he was cruel but it was much better hidden than in the other boy. Tonight, he'd lost the thin armour of courtesy he wore and Tyrion suspected the reason - the girls had escaped. Despite his pain, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards at the small victory.

"Don't know why you're smiling dwarf" growled Robin, clamping a hand on his shoulder and pulling him forwards as much as the collar allowed "You're our property, no matter what. Even when you're dead everyone will see what the lord of Winterfell really is. Our mark will be on you forever"

Tyrion screwed his eyes shut as Robin traced the brand on his back. It covered most of his shoulder and each touch sent spikes of hot pain through him, but that paled in comparison to the shame the mark brought him.

"Suit's him doesn't it?" said Gawan, appearing at the gate to his stall - several guards flanking him

Robin moved off Tyrion then, giving the brand a final press as he stood "We've had to change plans because of you, but don't worry - your executioner is on his way. The fool paid us a King's ransom to get his hands on you"

"Believed everything we told him" snorted Gawan "but I suppose revenge makes you blind"

"The slaves have reached Winterfell" admitted Robin with a sigh "and that means Sansa will be sending out people to bring her pet back. We can't be here for that, you see. As much as I'd love to watch him gut you, we'll have to leave you behind to await the familiar face of death"

"It's a shame really" said Gawan, looking mournfully at Tyrion "I wanted to keep you as my pet, but we needed money to run this operation and his demands were very reasonable"

"The last Lannister at his mercy in exchange for huge amounts of coin" said Robin, stepping back "an arrangement that would have worked out well for all of us if you hadn't tried to play hero. Our operation here is ruined, but it's too early to tell whether Queen Sansa knows who was behind it"

"Doubt she'll listen to the wildlings" said Gawan with a yawn "not highborn enough for the icy bitch"

"No, but Arya might" said Robin, grimacing "Of course you would have listened to them. The mighty lord of Winterfell listened to everyone"

"Poor little lion wanted to be a wolf" mocked Gawan, leering at him "now he's just prey"

Tyrion kept his head down, fighting to control his emotions. Why couldn't they just leave him to die in peace? He knew he had utterly failed at everything. He'd tried to honour the Starks - to be like them. Was it so bad to not want to be a Lannister? His sister had slaughtered innocents, and used them as human shields when Daenerys came. His father had orchestrated the red wedding and slaughtered so many before that they'd written a song about it. His family was cruel and callous. A lump formed in Tyrion's throat. He didn't want to be like his family, but now he'd dishonoured Sansa and her family too.

Robin stood in front of him now, corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he observed his prisoner "You'll die tonight Lannister - but just so you don't think about escape…"

Robin raised his leg bringing his boot down on Tyrion's left ankle sending a loud crack throughout the stall. His eyes watered as tendrils of agony lanced up his leg, while Robin reached down to grasp his foot – twisting it left and then right repeatedly. The bones ground together as Robin twisted until he was satisfied it was properly broken. Bile crawled up Tyrion's throat at the pain of each movement. His foot was hanging at an odd angle now.

"Why won't you scream imp?" asked Robin, straightening up as black spots clouded Tyrion's vision "You've disappointed Gawan - he hoped to hear a lion cry. Hurting you wasn't in our plans but you brought it on yourself by interfering"

"We've tried to keep the damage to one side of your body. This guy paid a lot for the honour of killing you - least we could do was leave him an undamaged side to work on" said Gawan

"It would be bad business otherwise" agreed Robin "Gawan, come take your pet for his last walk"

Robin left the stall as Gawan entered, a sadistic grin covering his face as he unlocked the chains from Tyrion's wrists. The cuffs dropped to the floor with a dull thump, giving a little relief to his damaged wrist. The boy wasn't finished and unlocked the chain from the wall that attached to the back of his collar.

"Let's go" he said, tugging on the chain and pulling Tyrion forwards as if he were a dog on a lead. He was far too weak to move and the movement sent him crashing onto his undamaged side. Angry tears burned at his eyes. They were degrading him and he couldn't do anything to stop them.

Gawan didn't wait to see if Tyrion followed but pulled on the lead dragging him out of the stall. He tried to stand when he realised he couldn't escape the humiliation, but his ankle wouldn't support any weight and he shook violently at the effort. Tyrion was dragged on his knees and good hand out into the cold of the evening with the guards forming a path for him to be walked down. It had snowed last night and he left tracks in the icy flakes as he was pulled onwards.

'Why?' he thought as the guards laughed at him

His father and sister had suffered brutal but quick ends despite the horror they'd wrought on the world, why did he have to suffer? He'd done terrible things, but did it truly warrant all this pain?

"Pathetic" jeered a guard, kicking at the snow and sending it into Tyrion's face

"Aint so mighty now"

"Where's your claws lion?" mocked another spitting on him as he past

They didn't travel all that far, but to Tyrion it could have been the length of the wall. Every taunt, every time he was spat on or kicked at broke him a little more - grinding him down to dust.

"Good boy" said Gawan, patting Tyrion's head as he struggled to rise once more "not far to go"

Tyrion's left side was useless to him. The best he could do was lean on his right side to spare himself the pain of his broken limbs dragging through the snow.

_'Is this how Cersei felt during her walk of shame?'_ he wondered_ 'at least I'm only half naked'_

The icy snow sent shivers through him as it touched his bare skin, but it was unavoidable as he was pulled towards a post between the farmhouse and stables. Robin stood waiting with a smug smile, eyes moving from Tyrion to a piece of wood nailed at the top of the post. They came to a stop as Tyrion panted in the snow. His breeches were soaked from the ice and there wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt. As he lay gasping on the ground, his eyes followed Robin's gaze to the sign.

The piece of wood was large with writing in big bold letters; The Lord of Winterfell.

"Do you like it?" asked Gawan bending down by his ear "Your executioner isn't the brightest but I'm sure even he can read that"

The group of guards gathered around the post as Tyrion was pulled the last few feet towards it. The chain in Gawan's hand was locked into place high above his head – tethering him to the post. The young lords stood back then, admiring their work as Tyrion lay in the snow; utterly defeated.

"He killed your brothers in arms" said Robin, addressing the men "and he ruined our business – stealing our chance to make real money. The North is weak and ravaged by war. Gawan and I decided to make our own fortune and you supported us fully. I ask that you continue to support us. We may have lost this round, but there are still many opportunities available to us"

"Justice has been done and the lion has been tamed" added Gawan, spreading his arms "do you stand with us still?"

The men roared with enthusiasm, before moving off to ready the horses. Tyrion lay still in the snow, to weak to shiver against the biting cold that surrounded him. He was dimly aware of the men riding off into the Wolfswood until only Gawan and Robin remained.

"You cost us big time Lannister" sneered Robin "but every setback has an opportunity. A shame we can't stay to see you die, but Arya Stark is leading the search for you and we need to be long gone when she finds your body"

"Have no fear my pet" called Gawan, swinging on to his horse "Your old friend will be here soon to claim his prize"

Robin laughed "He's waited a long time for this; I hope he finds it satisfying"

With that they both urged their horses onwards into the Wolfswood. The sky was a dark, inky black as a few snowflakes began fluttering to the ground. The fire in the centre of the camp was still burning; offering some meagre warmth despite Tyrion's distance from it. Wouldn't do to let the cold take him before this executioner could deliver a bloody end. The collar dug painfully into his neck but they hadn't bothered with any other restraints. There was no point anyway - he had no desire to escape this time. Most of his life had been spent defying death, now he would welcome it. Tyrion didn't bother moving from his position on the ground; instead he curled into a ball as best he could to await the end.

* * *

Maester Wolkan leaned over his desk, re-reading the message for what could have been the hundredth time.

Lannister's not only ones who pay debts. Last lion will die and justice be done.

There was something odd about it and the old Maester just couldn't figure out what. The wildling woman's information suggested Lord Tyrion's captors were Robin Flint and Gawan Glover, but the message didn't seem to suit either of them. It was possible they were trying to disguise their highborn status by the poor writing but that didn't seem to fit either.

Wolkan sat back with a sigh. Queen Sansa still seemed to be in denial over the situation and he sympathised with her. He'd been the Maester here when Ramsay was lord and he'd tended her injuries during that time with great pity. The idea of being betrayed by two men she trusted had surely hurt her, though it wasn't entirely unexpected. Neither of the men were particularly likeable and their spite over Sansa's marriage to Tyrion had been barely hidden. His mouth turned downwards at the thought of Lord Tyrion. He'd been clearly unwell when he arrived at Winterfell and his lack of self-care after that was obvious. Wolkan had let it go assuming Sansa would take care of her husband or insist he take better care of himself, but Tyrion had grown increasingly withdrawn. Whenever he saw him Tyrion had looked exhausted and gaunt, but Sansa seemed oblivious to it. Perhaps he should have intervened.

The Maester had grown to like Tyrion Lannister. He was well-loved by the Winterfell household and regarded as a kind, approachable lord throughout the North. Unlike Sansa whose reputation had gone the other direction. Servants feared to approach her and she was seen by many as a Southern Queen wearing a Northern face. It wasn't entirely Sansa's fault, he thought. She was young to carry the crown, mistakes were to be expected and her traumatic past didn't help matters. She trusted no-one fully save her sister and Tyrion, but at the same time was eager to please the other lords and ladies. Maybe he should have been more persistent in his offers of help to her, but Sansa Stark was as cold and intimidating as winter when she wanted to be.

A light knock sounded on his door, pulling him from his thoughts. Rising from the stool, he shuffled towards the door and tugged the heavy wood open to find Nessa stood outside.

"Sorry to bother you. I just wondered if I could do anything to help?"

Wide eyes gazed up at him and Wolkan softened "Come in Nessa, though I'm not sure what you can do to help"

The girl brightened as she hurried into the room "The women who escaped are sleeping in the great hall now. I was helping the other servants take care of them"

"That is good" said Maester Wolkan, returning to his stool "Some of them have been in danger for a long time, but they can rest safely here"

"The guards and Lady Arya are going to get Tyrion now, aren't they?" she said, hope brimming in her voice

"They are, though we do not know what state he might be in when he's found"

The Maester had spoken softly but his words were true, it was better for the girl to be prepared after all.

Nessa's face tightened "Why would anyone want to kill Tyrion? He's so nice"

Wolkan's eyebrows shot up "Dear girl, how do you know they want to kill him?"

"The women in the great hall were talking about it" she said, shifting on the spot "they told me he was really brave and saved them all"

The old man nodded "Lord Tyrion is a hero"

The girl approached his desk spying the letter lying on top "What are you working on?"

He hesitated, glancing between the girl and the letter. There was no harm in letting her read it; it said nothing she didn't already know.

"This letter came to Winterfell, but we're not sure who sent it" he said handing it to her

Wolkan smiled watching her sharp eyes scan the contents; she was very proud of her reading skills and delighted in telling people it was Tyrion who taught her. He'd asked his lord about it once but he brushed it off as needing a servant who knew which book to bring him. The Maester knew that wasn't true in the slightest.

The girl's brow furrowed as she gazed at the letter "This is written funny"

"It is" he confirmed "likely by someone with poor education or pretending to be poorly educated"

Nessa shrugged and handed it back to him "Maybe they don't speak the common tongue"

Wolkan stared dumbstruck at the girl. His mind raced as a grim connection formed in his mind. The message had sounded familiar to him, because he'd heard that manner of speech before - they all had.

"Tyrion used to complain about all the bad writing he had to read in Essos. He said it was cause they talked a different language and had to learn the common tongue" she continued, oblivious to her own breakthrough

"Nessa!" he said, grasping her shoulders "You clever girl, I believe you've figured out the answer of who sent this message"

"I did?" she said, beaming "Will it help Tyrion?"

_'If we're right, he's as good as dead'_ thought the Maester sadly, but he couldn't tell Nessa that.

Wolkan swallowed, smiling at the girl "It will help us bring those that took him to justice. We must tell the Queen at once"

Nessa frowned, biting her lip "I don't wanna see the Queen - she scares me"

Wolkan hurried to the door, the note in hand "Very well Nessa. I'll inform the Queen of your discovery"

Lady Arya and the men had long gone, but it was important to tell the Queen anyway. At the very least it brought clarity to the mystery of Tyrion's disappearance.

"Wait" she said, face puzzled "What did I figure out?"

The old man turned back to her in the doorway, heaviness settling in his chest "I believe the one who seeks revenge on lord Tyrion was a close friend of the dragon Queen. The captain of the Unsullied - Grey Worm"

* * *

Tyrion's eyes were shut as he lay in the snow, fresh flakes fluttering on top of him and melting against his skin. He shivered against each fresh drop of coldness, but made no effort to move. The chain attached to his collar kept him locked close to the post and he saw no reason to try and sit up. With any luck the snow might kill him before the executioner arrived. Time had lost all meaning to Tyrion, but he assumed it had been a few hours since he was left alone.

The sounds of the Wolfswood were familiar to him now. The birds chirping in the trees indicated it was the early hours and daybreak was near. There'd been a rustling in the bushes somewhere behind him for a while now, but it was the sound of snow crunching in front of him that drew his attention. It wasn't an animal – the footsteps were human.

He didn't bother raising his head to investigate. The last time he'd opened his eyes he'd seen his father looking at him – disgust spread over his face at the sight of his youngest son. Before that it had been Cersei smirking down at him telling him how much he deserved it, while his vicious nephew stood next to her; laughing at his uncle.

The footsteps came to a stop before him and Tyrion waited for the thrust of a sword to end his life.

"You will face justice now"

The familiar voice sent a shudder through Tyrion. His eyes darted open as cold dread wrapped around his battered heart.

"Grey Worm?" he asked, voice breaking

Was this another illusion? Another figure from the past come to haunt him? His gaze moved upwards to look at his former friend. Grey Worm did not look well. His hair had grown out and his body was leaner and harder than before. He had the look of a man who'd lived off the land for too many moons.

The unsullied captain grabbed Tyrion's right arm, easily lifting him up and slamming his back against the post, so he sat slumped against the rough wood.

"You look at me when you die" he said, cracking his knuckles

Tyrion said nothing as sadness filled him. Grey worm had been a slave his whole life and lost the two people he cared about most. Cersei had killed the woman he loved and Tyrion had arranged the murder of his Queen. The man carried his traditional spear and still wore the uniform emblazoned with the Targaryen dragon sigil however worn and dirty the clothes were.

"As you say" said Tyrion, watching his former friend. Any moment now it would be over.

The tip of the spear was pointing at him, but Grey Worm's eyes were locked onto the collar around Tyrion's neck.

"You should have died in Kings landing" he said, spear trembling "you a traitor – betrayed our Queen"

Tyrion said nothing, but his eyes were full of pity for the broken man before him.

"I pay those lords so I kill you myself" he said "they want you gone too. Our Queen dead and you marry another Queen? I could not leave Westeros without avenging her memory. She saved us from slavery – from men like you"

Heat flooded Tyrion at the accusation "I'm no slaver – but you are"

The tip of the spear thrust forwards, stopping an inch from Tyrion's heart.

"How dare you?" spat Grey Worm "This one was freed by Daenerys Stormborn, this one continues her fight against slavery"

"So after you kill me... are you going to kill Robin and Gawan?" said Tyrion, voice shaky "They used the money _you_ gave them to set up a business in slavery. That barn was full of young girls ready to get shipped off to Essos. They were stolen from their families and kept in chains"

Grey Worm shook his head "No...you lie! You a Lannister, you all liars!"

"I'm not lying. Your new friends lied to you"

"You hope to save yourself by telling lies. Those lords want what I want - an end to you"

"Kill me then; I deserve it" said Tyrion, looking him in the eyes "But I'm not lying"

Grey Worm's face contorted in anguish as he tried to process the words "No, I never help slavers. Those boys asked me lot about slavery and about you. They say they curious"

"You told them I'd been bought and sold as a slave in Essos" said Tyrion, letting out a sigh "I wondered how they knew about that"

Indecision tore across the unsullied captain's face. Tyrion knew the conflict wasn't over killing Tyrion – he'd made him mind up about that already, but whether to believe him or not.

"Look in the barn" said Tyrion, voice growing weaker as the conversation wore on "that's where they were kept"

Tyrion shuddered as Grey Worm's eyes flicked from him to the barn in question. He was so cold.

"Where they now?"

"Escaped to Winterfell"

"You lying" said Grey Worm though his voice wavered

The man was a great captain and military commander, but Tyrion had discovered in Mereen that was as far as his skills went. The unsullied were taught to obey and not question. While Daenerys and Missandei had gone some way in correcting this, Grey Worm was a soldier first and foremost. Politics and manipulation were lost on him in many ways. Robin and Gawan had used him while probably laughing about how the former slave had helped them enslave helpless girls.

"We were friends once" said Tyrion, lowering his head to his chest

"You were always outsider – not to be trusted" said Grey Worm "Use fancy words to use people"

"I cared for Missandei and Daenerys too. I hate that they're gone and I'm the cause of it"

"Shut up!"

"Daenerys went mad. She slaughtered innocents – I couldn't stop her"

"Enough!" roared Grey Worm, left hand clenching into a fist "You are traitor and you will die as one"

Tyrion leaned back against the post, giving the man he'd once thought friend a clear target "Whenever you're ready then"

The spear had retracted as they spoke but the point was still aimed directly at his heart. A clean death at least; no more pain and suffering. Grey Worm's eyes were without remorse; dark and brutal. Jamie was there now, stood behind Grey Worm with a sad look on his face.

_'It'll all be over soon little brother'_ he said _'no more suffering. We'll be together again'_

At least he wasn't alone - he really didn't want to die alone.

The ground seemed to vibrate beneath Tyrion as the sound of hooves thundered through the Wolfswood in the distance. A white horse burst through the trees at the end of the clearing followed by dozens more guards a few lengths behind.

Grey Worm turned to see the riders before returning his gaze to Tyrion once more, hate and pain burning in his dark eyes as he thrust the spear forwards to end his life.

The deadly point sprung towards Tyrion as Arya's voice cried out in the distance.

* * *

"No!" shouted Arya, thundering across the clearing towards Tyrion.

She'd spotted him as soon as they broke through the trees. Tyrion was leaning against a post, half naked in the icy snow while a man wearing an unsullied uniform pointed a spear at his chest. The man turned at the sound of their approach before quickly moving his attention back to Tyrion.

They weren't going to make it. Arya saw the man's arm pull back to thrust the spear into Tyrion as if time had slowed down. Her horse shuddered beneath her as it closed the distance, but it would be too late.

A flash of light brown and gold caught her eye and Arya watched a small, furry bundle pounce from the bushes behind Tyrion and attack the man's hand, sending his thrust wild. Rather than impale him, the tip of the spear sliced into Tyrion, carving a line from the bottom of his chest and across his ribs.

Arya pulled her horse to a stop as she finally reached Tyrion. In one movement she leapt from the horse's back and withdrew needle, positioning herself between Tyrion and his attacker. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she took in the man's face; it was Grey Worm. The captain of the dragon Queen's unsullied.

The creature had its jaws wrapped around Grey Worm's hand and with a final yank severed two fingers. Arya's eyes widened as she looked at the creature - a small wolf pup with golden brown fur. The unsullied captain staggered back a pace as the wolf dropped to the ground and darted past Arya towards Tyrion. Blood covered the ground between her and Grey Worm as his two fingers lay discarded in the snow. The spear was lying next to Tyrion and the man moved to grab it until Arya jabbed forwards with needle, driving him back. She'd travelled here with forty men and they surrounded the lone unsullied on horseback now, weapons drawn.

"You can't interfere" he spat "This is justice!"

"Justice would be me slitting your throat" said Arya, as Alec and Cayn swung off their horses and hurried towards Tyrion.

"This man a traitor. He deserves to die"

Arya's face grew tight "Take care how you speak of my brother. Where are Gawan Glover and Robin Flint?"

On her way out of Winterfell, Arya had found the leader of the group of women as they were being led into the great hall. She'd asked the wildling woman only two things; directions to find Tyrion and the name of who had him.

The woman had given her two names – Robin and Gawan, and she hadn't been lying as far as Arya could tell. The appearance of Grey Worm was unexpected to say the least.

"They fulfil their deal – they leave him for me" said Grey Worm, dark eyes glinting dangerously. He barely seemed to register the two fingers missing from his right hand as blood dripped onto the snow.

Arya's eyes narrowed "What deal?"

"I pay them and they give me Lannister so I get justice for Queen Daenerys"

"What about the slaves? Were they part of your deal?"

The man's face flashed with anger "I no slaver! I know nothing about that. I pay them so I kill him"

Arya was confused. The man was a former slave; it seemed unlikely he would help sell people into the same fate. She'd expected to find Robin and Gawan here, yet there was no sign of them and instead she found Grey Worm. Her mind raced with possibilities; trying to see the whole picture.

Alec appeared at her side with his sword drawn, and Arya glanced at him in confusion. He'd gone to tend Tyrion, yet now the fury rolled off him in waves.

"Did you do that to him?" he demanded, pointing his sword at Grey Worm "Did you cause all that damage?"

Arya's stomach rolled. She desperately wanted to check on Tyrion herself, but she had to deal with this first. Alec wasn't easy to anger, but the look on his face was murderous as he stared down the man before them.

"No" said Grey Worm, shaking his head "I come to kill him"

"Who hurt him then?" growled Alec

"Was...Gawan Glover and...Robin Flint" croaked a weak voice behind her

Alec's sword lowered at the voice and he turned back to Tyrion without a word, as Arya's heart twisted. He sounded so weak...but she had an answer. Those two were behind this and they would face justice. Grey Worm was also guilty. If not for the wolf he would have killed Tyrion in front of her and Arya wanted nothing more than to poke a hole through the man's throat, but Sansa's orders stayed her hand.

"In the name of Sansa Stark the Queen in the North, you are under arrest on charges of kidnapping, attempted murder of the lord of Winterfell and working to sell innocent girls into slavery"

Grey Worm's face paled at her words "There no slavery here"

"Tell that to the forty women who just escaped here with collars around their necks"

"No...not true...I not…"

Grey Worm staggered as though struck by her words, while Arya nodded to her men. A group surged forwards to restrain him and he didn't bother resisting as he was dragged away. He'd surrendered far too easily, and Arya was beginning to suspect he'd been used by Robin and Gawan. There would be time to figure this out later, when she'd checked on Tyrion.

Her forty men were a mixture of Winterfell guards and a number of Cerwyn and Tallhart men. Cley's captain of guards turned to her "We will check the area for signs of where Glover and Flint could have gone, lady Arya"

Arya shook her head "I fear they're long gone. I'll leave you to oversee the search and the prisoner – Tyrion needs me"

The older man nodded as she placed needle back on her hip and turned to Tyrion. Alec and Cayn had ripped their cloaks off and were in the process of wrapping strips of the material around his ankle.

Cayn was propping Tyrion up as Arya dropped to her knees beside him. Bile crawled up her throat at the sight of his battered body. His left arm was mangled while his chest was covered in deep bruises. A wad of material was pressed against the slash on his torso while his upper arm and face were covered in blood. Her heart leapt as she looked at his face; his old scar had been reopened. Tyrion's eyes were closed and Arya's gaze centred on the collar fastened around his neck. A short length of chain was attached to it, tethering him to the post.

"Why didn't you take that off?" she said, glaring at Cayn

"The clasp is melted shut and the metal's burnt into his skin. Cutting it off is too risky. A maester will need to do it" said Alec, eyes never leaving his work on Tyrion's ankle, which Arya realised was hanging at an unnatural angle

"Lady Arya" said Cayn quietly, eyes darting to Tyrion's back and up again

Shuffling in the snow, Arya moved until she had a clear view of Tyrion's back – and then she wished she hadn't. His back was a mess of old scars; marks Arya had seen across the narrow sea. Her hands clenched so tightly her fingers dug into her palms at the realisation someone had lashed him in the past. The sheer quantity and size of the marks turned her stomach but not as much as the inflamed shape that covered the back of his left shoulder.

They'd branded him.

Those bastards had branded her brother.

Cayn's eyes were sad and watery as he turned away from the sight, yet Arya couldn't bring herself to move. The brand looked very new and her interrogation with Reg came to mind.

_'I held him down while they did it'_ he'd said, a grin on his face _'He struggled and struggled but I held him nice and tight, he soon stopped fighting when it was over'_

A snarl curved over Arya's face and she regretted not hurting Reg more before she killed him. He'd taunted them with what they'd done to Tyrion, but she'd never imagined this.

_'Robin Flint. Gawan Glover'_ she thought, adding their names to her list.

They would die for this – in the most brutal way she could imagine.

"Arya..." wheezed Tyrion, and she scooted around so she was in front of him as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

"Tyrion" she said voice breaking "I'm glad to see you big brother"

He was terribly pale and shivering as he tilted his head to look at her "Robin...wants to marry Sansa...you can't let him. Please don't let them...near her"

His voice cracked as pain filled green eyes bore into hers.

She reached forwards, taking hold of his good hand "I won't let them near her or you ever again. You're Sansa's husband, she won't marry anyone else"

Tyrion shook his head "Can't go back...shamed Sansa and you. Leave me here"

Arya's heart lurched "We're not leaving you Tyrion. You're family; I'm taking you home. This isn't your fault"

"No...shamed you all" he said, choking back a sob "I tried to stop them...but I couldn't...and they...they"

Arya leaned forwards wrapping her arms carefully around him. It wasn't hard to figure out what he was talking about "It's just another scar. We can fix this. We're going home now, ok? Sansa and I missed you so much"

Tyrion was icy cold to touch and trembled in her arms "Sansa will...hate me...she trusted me"

"That's not true" said Arya, eyes burning "She could never hate you. You've done nothing wrong Tyrion – you're a hero"

"What those bastards did to you isn't your fault" said Alec moving from Tyrion's leg to deal with the chain securing him to the post "All those girls are safe because of you"

"We missed you Tyrion" said Cayn, patting his good shoulder "Practice yard isn't the same without you"

She pulled back from Tyrion enough to look into his exhausted face; his green eyes were flickering closed and then open as Alec severed the chain from the collar. She wanted that thing off him desperately, but Alec was right; it was far too tight to his skin and needed practiced hands to remove it.

"Good to see ya Lannister" said Brice, dropping down beside them "Making friends with the wildlife?"

The large man was smiling sadly at Tyrion and Arya pulled back to let him closer. He raised a skin of water and continued talking gently to her brother as he gave him a drink.

Lyle had joined them now too and was ripping their cloaks to strips at the side. Arya sat back as the men took care of Tyrion, her gaze wandering to the golden wolf pup pressing against his right side. It was a direwolf, she realised with a start.

That couldn't be right. Yet the truth was staring at Tyrion with bright green eyes.

When her brothers and father had found the direwolf pups and their dead mother years ago it was the first sighting south of the wall in nearly two hundred years. This wolf pup was small and very young, but not new-born as Nymeria had been. Arya reached out to ruffle its soft fur, and the creature merely snuggled closer to Tyrion, nudging against him with a soft whine. How one this young had come so far south of the wall alone was anyone's guess, but the creature was clearly bonded to Tyrion.

"Almost ready to go" said Lyle, lifting Tyrion's mangled arm and pressing it against his chest while Alec wound strips of cloak around him - immobilising the limb.

"Please… just leave me" he said, and Arya's heart cracked "I can't see Sansa"

She knew he thought himself a prisoner at Winterfell; she'd told Sansa as much the day before. But now naked fear shone in his eyes at the prospect of going home. Tyrion was ashamed; though he had no reason to be. Arya bit her lip as she took his right hand again - none of this was fair to him.

"Sansa's been so sad without you Tyrion. She wanted to come herself and bring you home" said Arya, watching his face contort in pain as his friends secured the makeshift bandages around him "We'll go home and we'll take care of you. It'll be ok, I promise"

"I'm sorry…I couldn't stop them" he said, green eyes sliding close "not strong…like Jamie…failed again"

Panic flooded Arya as he fell limp against Cayn. A hand on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned to see Brice shaking his head at her "He's exhausted m'lady and half frozen to death. Given the state of him it's a miracle he's still alive"

Arya nodded, giving Tyrion's hand a final squeeze as she straightened up "We need to go. Robin and Gawan are long gone - bringing Tyrion home is the priority"

Alec stood with a weary sigh "I'll get him settled on a horse. It's not going to be comfortable but it's the fastest way to get back to Winterfell"

The men moved out to prepare for the journey and Arya's eyes wandered to the sign nailed to the post above Tyrion.

_'The Lord of Winterfell'_ it read.

Arya's hand twitched towards needle at the sight. Those monsters had abused and humiliated Tyrion. The image of Gawan's grinning face and Robin's arrogant smirk came to mind and she wanted desperately to vent her anger. Grey Worm deserved to die but Sansa's orders were clear. Besides, it was possible he had information that could help them.

She spoke quickly with the captain of Cley's guard and split the men into two forces. Half would return to Winterfell with them and the other half would ride further into the Wolfswood in the hopes of tracking Robin and Gawan.

The older man nodded his assent to the plan "As you wish m'lady. We will do all we can to root them out"

"Thank you for your support. Lord Cerwyn and Lady Tallhart are true friends of Winterfell" she said, shaking his hand

"Their actions cannot go unpunished" he said "Justice must be brought to them for what they've done"

The wind picked up, sending a cold breeze around her as she approached her own men. Cayn was sitting on his horse with Tyrion lying unconscious against his chest while Alec and Brice tied a cloak around them both - securing them together. Arya's mouth curved downwards; this was just adding to Tyrion's humiliation but there was no other choice.

"Cayn's the best rider we've got and he's lighter than the rest of us" said Lyle coming to her side "Putting Tyrion with him seemed the fastest way to get him back to Winterfell"

"Agreed" she said, with a nod "We'll ride on ahead, and the rest of our guards will bring the prisoner after us. Grey Worm is very dangerous - watch him closely"

A small growl sounded, causing the horses to skitter nervously. Arya looked down to find the direwolf pup barking at Cayn's horse, eyes locked on Tyrion.

"Do you want to go with him?" she said, crouching to the pup. The wolf's green eyes were far too intelligent as they turned on her, before looking back at Tyrion.

Reaching down she lifted the furry bundle up to Cayn, and the wolf practically leapt from her hands and into the cloak wrapped around her brother, pressing against him.

"Um, is that thing going to bite my fingers off?" said Cayn, glancing warily at the wolf pup now lying against him

Arya smiled slightly, swinging onto her own horse "I doubt it. At least he'll keep Tyrion warm"

The party moved out, with her and Cayn taking the lead. She'd left Grey Worm in the charge of her men - looking at him only made her want to run him through. Her horse heaved beneath her as they pounded through the Wolfswood. Tyrion needed a Maester urgently and Arya was desperate to get him home. Her chest tightened at the thought of Sansa. She could tell Sansa had been clinging to some hope Tyrion would be fine; seeing the truth would shatter that illusion into a million pieces.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Sansa paced the length of her room, agitation in every step. It had been nearly a day since Arya left Winterfell to find Tyrion and Sansa had known no peace in that time. She'd spent some of her time overseeing the rescued women. None of them liked being in Winterfell and were eager to leave, but Maester Wolkan had insisted they stay a couple of days before making the journey back to the Gift or their own villages. Many were run down and in desperate need of food, which Sansa had granted them - but their distrust of her was clear. They'd been offered rooms in the servant's quarters but instead opted to remain in the great hall where they huddled together in groups. She did sympathise with them - the experience must have been traumatic, and it was understandable they would distrust highborns after their experience with Robin and Gawan. The servants had removed the collars from their necks and Sansa had ordered them to be stored as evidence against her former allies. Politically, this was a nightmare - the heir to Deepwood Motte and the lord of Widows Watch involved in the slave trade and the kidnapping of the lord of Winterfell. Sansa wished it wasn't true; but the evidence mounted up. One way or another they would pay for taking Tyrion from her.

The room was warm and comfortable, but Sansa couldn't enjoy it. It had snowed again last night and her thoughts had continuously wandered to her husband. She hated him being away from her. Was he warm enough? Had he been given food? The wildling woman had told her she'd seen one of the lords forcing him to eat like an animal and he'd been left outside in the cold all day before the escape. Sansa ran her fingers over the now complete blanket. It was a thick black material, decorated with golden lions. When Tyrion came home, she would tell him about Kings Landing and apologise for everything. It would be fine. She'd make sure he was warm and comfortable, and it would all be fine.

_'When you sit on the throne, the truth is what you make it'_ taunted a voice in her head

Yesterday evening Maester Wolkan had come to her, sorrow written all over his face.

"Your Grace, I believe I know who sent the letter" he'd said, staring at his hands

"Rose already told us she'd heard the names Robin and Gawan. Presumably it was one of them" she'd said, mouth turning into a frown

"No, your Grace" he'd said, shaking his head "I believe this letter was sent by a member of the Unsullied"

Sansa's heart had shuddered. The Unsullied were savage killers.

"Why do you think that?" she'd said

"Like you I assumed the poor writing was an attempt to disguise the education of the writer and to trick us into believing it was someone lowborn. Yet given what Rose told us about Robin and Gawan the letter didn't fit. It is personal - someone with a grudge against lord Tyrion"

"Grey Worm" she said, swallowing hard. The pieces fell together; the manner of writing had seemed familiar because it reflected the broken language used by the Unsullied captain "It's too late to warn Arya - I hope you're wrong about this Maester"

"As do I, your Grace" he'd said with a sigh "You should know the discovery was made by lord Tyrion's squire - Nessa. I showed her the letter and she recalled lord Tyrion telling her of the poor writing he saw in Essos. If not for her, I may not have made the connection"

"Where is this squire?" she'd asked "Why did she not come to me herself?"

"I believe she was rather nervous of you, my Queen - she is quite young"

She'd thanked the Maester for his information and asked him to keep the letter safe in case they had need of it. Her face hadn't wavered from the calm, dignified Queen in the North even as her stomach heaved. Grey Worm had been furious in Kings Landing, the deaths of Missandei and Daenerys turning him dangerous. Sansa didn't want to consider him anywhere near Tyrion; she'd heard enough from Jon about how he executed Lannister soldiers who's surrendered.

Sansa's brow furrowed trying to remember the squire as she settled into her chair by the hearth. She vaguely recalled seeing a tatty headed young girl following Tyrion around, but she usually made herself scarce if Sansa appeared.

Was she that intimidating?

It was true that none of the servants or guards really spoke to her unless necessary; though from what she'd seen they always greeted Tyrion warmly and he seemed to know many of their names. She swallowed hard thinking of her husband. Grey Worm was utterly ruthless. If Maester Wolkan was correct Tyrion could already be dead. Then there was Gawan and Robin. Presumably all three of them were connected in this, but she had no idea how. There were far too many unknowns for Sansa's liking.

_'Knowledge is power'_ whispered one voice

_'Power is power'_ insisted the other

Whoever was involved would pay the price. No-one would dare lay a hand on Tyrion again. She bit her lip, worry for her husband and sister consuming her mind. The waiting was the worst part, she decided.

She'd just started combing through the correspondence she'd ignored the past few days when frantic banging sounded on the door.

"Your Grace!" called the voice "Lady Arya has returned with Lord Tyrion"

Sansa darted from her chair to wrench open the door, coming face to face with a young Winterfell guard covered in filth. Long brown hair hung around his face and his eyes were frantic as he faced her. Sansa vaguely recognised him as the guard who'd come to her and Arya yesterday, informing them of the women being brought to Winterfell - her sister knew who he was.

"Where are they?" she demanded, relief flooding her at their return

The guard was panting as if he'd run to her room "With the Maester - your Grace he's…"

Sansa didn't wait for him to finish, rushing past him and down the stairs towards Maester Wolkan's room. They'd have brought him there first to get checked over, no doubt. A smile played across her face at the prospect of being reunited with Tyrion. Her footsteps rang out against the floor as she drew closer to the room. She'd imagined how the reunion might play out many times over the past few days - he'd be tired and perhaps a bit dirty, but he'd smile at her reassuringly and she'd wrap her arms around him; telling him how much she missed him.

The wooden door was closed when she got there and voices could be heard from the other side, but the Queen in the North didn't hesitate to push her way into the room.

Maester Wolkan was flying around the room gathering equipment, and she saw another young guard stood to one side that bore a striking resemblance to the one who'd come to her room. Arya looked fine but was bending over the examination table. All movement paused as she entered the room and her eyes finally found who she'd been looking for.

"Sansa…" started Arya, tears glistening in her eyes as she turned to her

Tyrion was lying on the examination table, a mess of blood and dirt. They'd lay him on his side and Sansa didn't need to be a Maester to know the situation was bad. Makeshift bandages were wrapped around his left arm and ankle while blood stained rags lay in a heap next to him, revealing a large, bloody gash that curved down from his chest and over his ribs. Her heart seemed to stop as her eyes raked over his broken body. His back was a mess of scars, but her eyes zeroed in on the bright red, inflamed skin on his shoulder. Bile burned its way up her throat as her mind struggled to comprehend what she was seeing. The back of his shoulder had been burned in a pattern, she realised. How had that happened?

Understanding came to her and her stomach rolled violently. Someone had branded him. Sansa stared at the mark for what could have been an eternity until her gaze moved up to her husband's face. His eyes were closed, but blood coated his face and a thick band of black was wrapped tightly around his neck. Sansa swallowed hard. He wore only his breeches and was shivering violently on the table.

Sansa's body started to shake too.

He wasn't fine.

A sob built in her throat "Tyrion?"

This couldn't be real. Why would anyone do this to him? He was kind and gentle – and they'd hurt him.

They were all looking at her, waiting for her to take charge. She couldn't do it.

Sansa's legs shook as she bolted from the room, stumbling along the corridor until she threw herself into an empty chamber. She took only a few steps into the room before dropping to her knees and emptying the contents of her stomach across the floor. Her shoulders shook as the vomit burned its way up her throat. Gods, they'd brutalised him. Someone was sobbing and it took Sansa longer than it should have to realise it was her. She hadn't properly cried in years, Kings Landing had taught her it was weakness. The last time she'd cried had been when Theon died. Now loud sobs echoed through the room as every defence she'd built over the years crumbled to nothing. This was her fault – she'd treated him horribly and now he was badly hurt. Was he even alive?

Her shoulders shook as the dark thought flitted through her mind? No – he was alive; he was shivering. He didn't like the cold.

_'I trusted Robin and Gawan and they...they...'_

Sansa couldn't finish the thought. She'd tried to play the game of thrones; using the people around her like pieces in a game, building alliances where she could - and this was the result. Betrayed by two men she'd trusted, her husband beaten beyond recognition; heat rose through Sansa, melting the Queen of ice.

When she could vomit no more, Sansa pushed herself to her feet. Her legs trembled beneath her as she made her way to the lone mirror in the corner of the room, she had to see herself; really see herself. Sansa looked at her reflection every day, but today it wasn't Sansa Stark staring back at her – it was Cersei Lannister.

The dead Queen smirked at her, as her taunting voice echoed through her mind _'You're my true heir, aren't you little dove?'_

Tears streamed down Sansa's face as the image morphed to Petyr Baelish and then Ramsay Bolton, though it always returned to Cersei. Sansa staggered back from her reflection, sinking to the ground as she wrapped her arms around herself. The woman in the mirror was no true Queen, no true Stark; she was a monster.

_'Now you finally understand what it means to rule little dove'_ taunted the dead Queen_ 'love no-one but your children. Everyone else is expendable'_

A moan fell from her lips as the truth of her actions hit her full force. She'd lied to and manipulated Tyrion; forcing him into the North, into marriage and into her bed. It had all been for the good of the North, she'd told herself – told Tyrion. Now he was lying broken down the corridor. Sansa's chest heaved as the rationale for every decision she'd made crumbled to dust. She was a monster, Sansa realised, just like Cersei. There were no excuses for what she'd done, howeber she tried to defend her actions. Why hadn't she listened? Her sister had tried to warn her, even now Arya's words came back to haunt her.

_'That's all he wants, you know – your love'_

"Oh Tyrion, I do love you. I love you so much" she said, voice breaking "Nothing is worth hurting you"

"Maybe you should try telling your seriously injured husband"

Sansa lifted her head to see Arya in the doorway, her face twisted into a glare.

"How dare you run away from him - he needs you!"

"I'm a monster" said Sansa, shoulders shaking "this is all my fault. You were right - I'm no better than Cersei. Tyrion deserves so much better"

Her sister's face had frozen in the face of Sansa's tears, softening slightly from its deadly glare. Arya's clothes were covered in dirt and blood, and tiredness was evident in her face, but her expression was filed with reproach as she gazed at her older sister. Sansa ran her hands up and down her arms, suppressing a shiver. It was as if her icy armour had been stripped away revealing the scared, vulnerable girl she'd once been - before she learned to play the game.

"It's not all your fault" said Arya, uncrossing her arms "You didn't hurt him like that – Robin and Gawan did"

"I've done plenty to hurt him" she said, heaviness settling over her "Arya…I thought he'd be fine. How could I be so stupid? He's always been fine"

"He's not been fine for a long time"

"Gods Arya...what've they done to him? I can't lose Tyrion, I wouldn't survive that" said Sansa, warm tears running down her face

"They tortured him and humiliated him" said Arya simply "I'm no Maester but nearly all his injuries were deliberate from what I could see"

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut. She'd trusted both Robin and Gawan to varying degrees; considered them friends. Never did she think they'd do something like this.

"Tyrion must hate me" whispered Sansa wrapping her arms tighter around herself "He didn't want any of this...and I forced him into everything. I took everything away from him"

"You did" agreed Arya

"I shouldn't have run like that; Tyrion shouldn't be alone"

"I know – that's why I came to find his wife" said Arya, voice hardening "Cayn's with him now; he's his friend"

Sansa crumpled under her sister's scrutiny; her parents would be ashamed of her. Bran's message had been a warning; Family, Duty, Honour - and she'd utterly failed to uphold those values.

"Tyrion didn't want to come back, you know. He kept telling us to leave him there" said Arya, sadness tinging her voice "He said he'd shamed us and you'd hate him for what they did to him"

_'What kind of monster am I, that my husband feared coming home?'_ she thought, disgust rolling through her

"That's not true" said Sansa, shaking her head "None of this is his fault. I would never blame him for this"

Arya crouched down besides Sansa "He's not going to believe you if you tell him. He's broken Sansa. Those bastards branded him, beat him and had him chained to a post like a dog. Gods know what else they did to him over the past few days - I only saw the end result"

"I'll make him believe me" said Sansa, clenching her fist "I've been awful to him; but I'll take care of him now – like I should have done before. He might never forgive me, but I'll spend the rest of my life treating him like he deserves"

"Good – you're starting to sound like a Stark again"

Sansa wiped at her eyes "I've not acted like a Stark, have I? The power of being Queen...it changed me. I'm not sure I recognise myself anymore"

"The real Sansa Stark is still there; you've just been hiding behind your wall of ice. For a long while it's been hard to tell who's the Stark and who's the Lannister between you and Tyrion"

"He's a good man, it doesn't matter that he's a Lannister. He's more honourable than half the lords and ladies in the North combined" said Sansa, pride rising up in her for her husband.

Arya's intense grey eyes studied her "His first thought was of you. He begged me to not let Robin marry you, or let either of them get near you. Despite all the pain he was in, protecting you was his priority"

Sansa's heart constricted at her sister's words "I need to be with him"

Arya nodded, straightening up and offering her sister a hand "I'll fill you in on everything that happened later"

"There's so much to do Arya – will you help me?" said Sansa, legs trembling as she stood "I can't right now; I just want to be with Tyrion. Nothing else...nothing else matters anymore"

It was true, she realised. All the things she'd poured so much time and energy into seemed so trivial in the face of what had happened. Her time and energy should have been spent elsewhere – somewhere it mattered. Everything was so much clearer now; as if someone had thrown cold water over her and washed the filth from her vision.

"You know I will" said Arya as they headed to the door "Be patient with Tyrion. When we found him…it was bad, Sansa. I'm glad you didn't see it"

"I don't want to imagine it"

"One more thing - a direwolf pup came back with us. I'll explain later, but it saved Tyrion's life and it's not left his side since"

A ghost of a smile flitted over Sansa's face as she wiped at her damp eyes "Tyrion has his own direwolf?"

Her sister nodded, corners of her mouth twitching up "There's no doubt it was meant for him"

A direwolf was incredibly rare to see south of the wall - the thought of one being bonded to her husband filled her with warmth. Lady had been her fiercest protector and most loyal friend; perhaps this direwolf would be the same for Tyrion.

"Arya" she called, as her sister turned to leave "Thank you - for bringing Tyrion home, and for everything you've done"

"He's my brother now" said Arya, smiling sadly "I won't lose another brother"

Sympathy rolled through Sansa as she parted ways with her sister; Robb and Rickon were dead, Jon was exiled to the nights watch and Bran was hardly Bran anymore. It was no secret Arya missed Jon the most - they'd always been close. They'd lost too many family members, and Sansa was determined to lose no-one else.

The corridor was empty as she made her way back to the Maester's room, breathing deeply to regain some composure. Tyrion needed her to take care of him; not the other way around. Her brave little lion had always protected her - now it was her turn. Low voices could be heard behind the door and to her surprise it opened just before she reached it.

"Your Grace" said the large, bald man standing back to let her through

The man was familiar though Sansa couldn't recall his name; she was fairly certain he worked in the castle. Nodding her thanks, she made her way into the room, taking a final deep breath to steady herself.

Tyrion was lying face down on the examination table, with a couple of pillows beneath him that lifted his left side up and cushioned his limbs. Bandages wound tightly around his torso, and Maester Wolkan was examining the back of his head when Sansa approached. A young guard sat in the chair next to Tyrion and appeared to be whispering to his still form.

"Your Grace" said the young man, jumping up as she approached "I was just-"

"You're his friend aren't you?" she asked, looking at the guard as if seeing him for the first time

"Um, yes your Grace" he said, fidgeting under her stare

_'Is everyone in Winterfell afraid of me?'_ she thought _'I truly am a monster'_

Sansa offered him a small smile "Thank you for looking after him. You should get some rest too. The guards and yourself have more than earned it"

The guard relaxed slightly at her words "Yes, your Grace. Lord Tyrion's our friend; if he needs anything we'll be there"

Sansa nodded her thanks as the young man quickly left the room and Sansa slid into his seat besides the table. Her eyebrows rose as she took in Tyrion's bare face and much shorter hair.

"What happened?" she asked softly, stroking his undamaged cheek

"It was necessary, your Grace" said Maester Wolkan, tilting Tyrion's head forward as he examined him "His beard was full of dirt and insects - as was his hair. From what Cayn told me he'd been left outside for hours at least. The scar on his face has been cut open though thankfully not too deeply and he has a gash on the back of his head. It was safer to remove his hair than risk infection. Thankfully, Tom found no lice and the gash in his head isn't too deep a couple of stitches should close it"

That explained the large man she'd seen leaving thought Sansa, as she ran her hand over the top of his now short curly hair. The back and sides were very short, but the top was longer as she brushed it gently from his forehead. The shorter hair and lack of a beard gave him a young, vulnerable look. Sansa leaned forwards, pressing a long kiss to his forehead.

"I missed you so much" she said, tears burning at her eyes once again "I'm sorry for all of this"

Maester Wolkan adjusted Tyrion's head once more and began stitching the wound as Sansa focused on her unconscious husband. The blood had been cleaned from his face, but his old scar was now a bright red line that cut across his features. Thankfully the collar had been removed, though it left deep grooves around his neck where it had been wrapped too tightly against his skin. A couple of small burns were visible at the back of his neck and with a sickening feeling she realised the collar had been sealed shut. Her eyes narrowed at the marks; how dare they degrade her husband like that?

'Like you degraded him?' taunted her mind 'You used him without a second thought'

"I've been really awful to you" she whispered, leaning her head close to his "I'll do better now, I promise. It won't erase the way I've treated you, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it"

Tyrion's face remained unmoved and Sansa's nerves intensified. His small body was still shaking on the table, but his eyes remained closed. Would he wake up? Anxiety rolled through her at the thought she might not get the chance to apologise.

"Has he woken up at all?" she asked, eyes moving down from his face to the bandages wrapped around his torso

"No your Grace, but Cayn said he woke up several times on the journey back which is a promising sign"

"He feels cold" she said, pressing a hand lightly to his bruised chest. Relief flooded her at the heartbeat she found there. It was a little fast perhaps, but comforted her all the same.

"From what I can gather Lord Tyrion's been left outside in freezing conditions. It's lucky the cold didn't kill him, but I suspect it will make him ill at the very least. It will be a very difficult recovery unfortunately - physically and mentally"

"But he will recover?" said Sansa, raising her eyes to meet the old man's eyes

He sighed, tapping his hands against the table "With proper care and a lot of rest, he has a chance of recovering. Though I fear this may have caused irreversible damage to his mind"

"I'll take care of him. I'll do whatever it takes to help him recover" said Sansa brushing a hand down the side of his face "Shouldn't we warm him up? He doesn't like the cold"

Maester Wolkan smiled slightly "Lady Arya said he was near frozen when they found him. Warming him up gradually is the safest way and I'd prefer him to be awake right now, but given the trauma his body's been through it's understandable he's unconscious. If not for the wolf pup, I fear he'd be in a far worse position. It lay against him the whole journey back, keeping him warm"

Sansa followed the Maester's gaze to a small wolf with golden brown fur in the corner of the room. It was clearly very young but sat alert, with bright green eyes trained on Tyrion. Arya was right; there was no doubt this wolf was meant for Tyrion.

The Maester moved his attention to a deep gash on Tyrion's upper arm "Your Grace, I fear treating lord Tyrion's injuries will not be a pleasant process. If you wish to leave, I'm sure he would understand"

"I'm staying" she said immediately "What can I do to help?"

"I need to stitch his arm and then examine his limbs – Alec did what he could for his injuries in the Wolfswood but tells me both his left wrist and ankle are badly broken. As you pointed out he is rather cold and could do with warming up. The burn on his shoulder and the stitches I've just put in his head mean he can't lie on his back, nor can he lie completely on his front given the damage to his chest and ribs. If you were willing, perhaps he could lie on you? There's a chance he will wake when I set his bones and he'll need to be kept still while I treat him"

"I would like to hold my husband" agreed Sansa softly, moving from the chair and climbing onto the examination table.

Between them they managed to move Tyrion so his right shoulder was lying in her lap while his head lolled against her stomach. He was mostly on his front but his left side was tilted up against her leg, and the Maester placed pillows under his left arm and leg. Sansa leaned back against the wall, stroking the top of Tyrion's short hair as Wolkan started stitching his upper arm. The gash on the back of his head wasn't overly large, but the position made it too difficult to bandage – she'd have to make sure the stitches didn't get caught or pulled while he rested. Fortunately his face hadn't needed sewing up, but she'd need to be careful the fragile skin wasn't torn open again. Silently, Sansa started compiling a list of his injuries and how she could help make him comfortable while he recovered. Planning was something she could do; she liked to solve problems and the practice helped to soothe a few of her raw nerves. Seeing the state of her husband had broken her; revealing a cruel, manipulative version of herself. The revelation had torn at her heart but left her determined to do better from now on.

Sansa moved her gaze to her husband trembling in her arms. Up close he looked even worse. Tyrion was far too thin, though his chest and arms were surprisingly well muscled. Undoubtedly a result of his sword practice - something she only knew about because Arya told her. Exhaustion was clear on his face and guilt wracked Sansa for not noticing sooner. Arya and Maester Wolkan had both told her Tyrion wasn't well; that he needed help, but she'd allowed him to carry on assuming he would be fine. Despite the injuries that littered his body it was obvious he hadn't been taking care of himself for some time; or nobody had been taking care of him.

From Tyrion's position in her lap Sansa was forced to confront what she'd avoided looking at since entering the room; his back.

It was the brand that drew her attention. The mark stood out red and angry on his skin, covering most of his left shoulder. It was a pattern - a large circle with a series of lines and curves within it.

_'He's ours now'_ it seemed to say, sending a shudder through her _'for the rest of his life'_

"Is there nothing we can do about that?" she asked, voice breaking as she stared at the burnt skin

"I'm afraid not, your Grace" the old man said, following her gaze as he finished wrapping bandages around Tyrion's upper arm "Branding is a short but excruciating process – and quite permanent. It will fade over time but he will bare that scar for the rest of his life"

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you Tyrion" she said quietly, bending down to kiss his head "That…that must have hurt you so much"

While the brand was the most noticeable mark on his back, Sansa's eyes travelled across the multitude of old scars that crossed his skin. The lines covered the whole area reaching around to the edge of his ribs and up to the top of his shoulders, though the bandages around his middle obscured some of the damage she'd seen earlier.

"They are a few years old, your Grace" said Maester Wolkan, coming around the table to the back of Tyrion "It would appear at some point he was lashed - quite severely judging by the number of marks"

"Why would anyone do that to him?" she said, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes once more

If the Maester was surprised she hadn't seen the marks on her husband's back before, he didn't show it "I do not know, your Grace. Although lashing is a common punishment in Essos - a cruel practice"

Sansa's stomach dropped, remembering what Robin had told her so long:

_'There's a rumour he was caught by slavers across the narrow sea, you know. Bought and sold'_

Was it true? She'd dismissed it as lies at the time, but now as she traced the scars that covered his back she wondered whether it was true. What had happened to him after Joffrey's death? She knew the basics of where he'd been but apparently none of the details. Were the scars the reason he never removed his nightshift in front of her? Sansa had scars too. Did he think she'd judge him for his?

_'You never asked'_ whispered her mind _'You didn't care'_

They'd been married for several moon turns now and it seemed she didn't really know Tyrion at all anymore. He worked hard as the lord of Winterfell, and often completed work for her as well, easing her burden as Queen. Shame flooded Sansa – beyond his duties as lord she had no idea what he spent most of the day doing, who he spoke to or if he even ate during the day. She saw him at dinner each evening and if she woke during the night he was in the bed, but she was asleep long before he came to bed and he was gone when she awoke each morning. That would all have to change. Arya had told her Tyrion thought of this as his prison rather than his home and she was beginning to understand why.

Part of her mind still fought to deny the truth, frantically searching for proof she wasn't a cold, manipulative wife – that they had spent some time together that wasn't business. She'd spent time with all the lords and ladies on her council. She'd walked and drank with Robin, gone riding with Gawan and…spent no time with Tyrion. Coldness crept down her spine as she recalled the attention she'd eagerly given to the monsters that hurt her husband; while giving him none. The only memory she could find was from nearly a week ago when they'd talked and laughed in their chambers - until she'd insisted on producing an heir. All traces of happiness had fled from his face, replaced by resignation while the deed was done. He'd turned away from her after and Sansa knew she'd hurt him, but she hadn't understood how.

_'That's all he wants, you know – your love'_

Again Arya's words came back to her and Sansa's stomach churned – she knew why now and it made her no better than Cersei Lannister.

"I'm so sorry" she whispered, leaning close to his face

The way she'd treated him, the way she'd manipulated him; how could Tyrion not hate her? She'd treated him as a means to an end; giving no consideration to what he wanted. Arya was right – she'd used him like a prisoner, not loved him as her husband. Of all the things Sansa had been forced to realise over the past few days, it was the realisation she had turned into her tormentors that truly struck home. Cersei, littlefinger, Ramsay – they'd all taught her different lessons, and she'd used them to her advantage. Rather than using those lessons to strengthen herself, she'd turned into a monster like them.

Wolkan had untied the makeshift bandages around Tyrion's wrist and was examining the limb when the weight on her shifted slightly. Sansa looked down to see familiar green eyes blinking up at her with confusion. Her heart leapt - he was awake.

"Oh Tyrion" she said, tears rolling down her cheeks "I'm glad to see you"

"Sorry…" he said, voice weak and broken "Sorry…so sorry"

Her eyebrows furrowed; why was he apologising? This wasn't his fault.

"You've done nothing wrong" she said, tugging him closer "I missed you very much"

"My lord, it is good to see you awake" said Wolkan, eyes moving to focus on Tyrion's face

"…not a lord…don't belong" he said, squirming in her arms "failed Sansa...so sorry"

Sansa's heart cracked as Tyrion grew increasingly agitated in her grasp "You've not failed anyone. I'm very proud of you, my brave little lion"

The Maester had been observing Tyrion as he spoke and stood from his place beside the table "He's in shock your Grace. Given the cold exposure and trauma he's experienced I believe he's not in his right mind. He should be better with rest, but for now I wouldn't pay too much heed to what he says. I'm not entirely sure he's aware of where he is or who he's with"

Wolkan moved off towards a cupboard and Sansa fought to control her emotions. It appeared the Maester was right - Tyrion's eyes were unfocused, but filled with fear as he gazed around the room. She'd seen that look in his eyes before. The first time was when he came with Daenerys, he spoke nothing but praise for her yet he'd feared her all the same. Since she brought Tyrion to Winterfell, his eyes had held the same look of fear – she'd just chose not to notice until today; when the truth was right in front of her.

"It'll be ok" she said, trying to keep the sorrow from her voice "We just need to get you better, don't we?"

"Sansa trusted...me" he said, trying to pull away from her "let her down..."

She tightened her grip, running her hands soothingly over his cold skin "You've never let me down"

A few moments passed with Tyrion shivering in her arms, frightened eyes darting around the room while she tried to settle him. Her heart lurched at the way he flinched from her touch, but she knew this was her own doing – she'd flinched from Ramsay's touch too.

"Home...please...want to go...home" he said, a sob sounding in his throat as he struggled weakly against her

"You're home Tyrion" said Sansa, running her hand over his undamaged cheek "You're safe here"

"Jamie...please...take me home" he said, tears glistening in the corner of his eyes "want...to go home"

"Sweetheart, this is your home" she said softly

Sansa's heart shattered at his plea. She'd taken his home away from him after all - not considering how it might hurt him. Her chest grew tight as she looked at his frightened face calling out for his dead brother; how many times in Kings Landing had she wished for one of her brothers to come and take her home?

"I know you miss Jamie – but I'll take care of you" she said, stroking his cheek "I love you so much Tyrion"

"...I'm a monster" he said, trembling in her arms "too weak...couldn't stop them..."

Tears flooded her eyes as she leaned down to kiss Tyrion's head.

"You're not a monster my love" she told him, rubbing circles on his back "The people who hurt you are monsters, but not you – never you"

The pain in Tyrion's voice broke her heart and she wanted nothing more than to convince him he was very loved and this was his home – but too much damage had been done for words to fix. She would have to show him; every day for the rest of her life she would show him. Maester Wolkan appeared at Sansa's side, handing her a half filled cup.

The old man's gaze was full of pity and it was obvious he'd heard their conversation "I can't give him milk of the poppy yet, now he's awake it's important to try and keep him awake for a while, even if he's a little…confused. This will make his body relax while I set the bones; though it won't numb the pain unfortunately"

Sansa turned her watery gaze to her shivery husband. He appeared to be trying to curl in on himself, and the tension in his small body was clear. She nodded her understanding to the Maester, taking the cup in one hand

"Let me help you drink this" she said "It'll help - I promise"

"Feels funny" he mumbled as she run her hand through his much shorter hair, gently tilting his head back to give him the drink

"You've had a bit of a trim I'm afraid" said Wolkan, settling on the stool beside the table and resuming his examination of Tyrion's wrist

"Don't worry you're still very handsome" said Sansa, offering him a small smile as the liquid slid down his throat

It took only a few minutes for the medicine to take effect and Sansa noticed his body relaxing against her. His head lolled against her as she brushed her hand through the top of his hair. Tyrion went quiet but his face held nothing but fear as he stared at the far wall. She continued to try and soothe him as he lay unmoving against her. It was clear he wasn't in his right mind and she wondered what he was thinking about. His normally sharp, warm eyes were empty as they stared out into nothing, and it was increasingly difficult to see. Sansa focused instead on what Wolkan was doing – and then wished she hadn't. Her stomach heaved at the mangled mess of his left arm; huge dark bruises covered his hand and his wrist was hanging at an odd angle.

The Maester was setting splints against the last two fingers on his left hand and his gaze kept turning to Tyrion, concern etched on his features. Sansa watched with a grim fascination as the old man bound the fingers tightly to the thin pieces of wood, straightening out the broken digits. Tyrion's hand was the next to be treated and the Maester went about setting small pieces of wood in various positions against the top and bottom of his hand. The room was quiet and the bones crunched as they were being set with the splint, causing the frown on Wolkan's face to deepen. Sansa turned her attention back to Tyrion's face, which was tight with pain as he stared into the distance.

Gods, his arm was a mess. Setting it must be agony...yet Tyrion had made no sound. Realisation set in and she glanced between the broken limb and her husband's face.

"My lord, can you feel this?" asked Wolkan as he secured the splint

"...not a lord" he said, screwing his eyes shut

Wolkan softened his voice "I'm sorry Tyrion. Can you feel this?"

The old man lightly pressed on his broken fingers and hand in turn, causing Tyrion's face to contort in discomfort.

"Feel it..." he said, taking short gasping breaths

The old Maester observed Tyrion for a moment longer before resuming his work on the limb, while Sansa watched on in confusion. Sansa was only observing the treatment and wanted to scream at the sound of the bones grinding together, yet Tyrion didn't make a sound.

"You're very quiet Tyrion" said Wolkan gently, as he continued his work "What I'm doing is very painful – we'd understand if you needed to shout or cry"

The old man gazed at her expectantly and Sansa was quick to agree "Of course we would"

"No...won't embarrass Sansa...anymore" he said, and the pain in his voice was clear

"That wouldn't embarrass Sansa, it's a very normal reaction" said Wolkan, now working on the snapped wrist

Sansa stayed silent, though she continued brushing her hands over him to try and soothe some of the agony on his face. It was obvious Wolkan was trying to get Tyrion to talk and she would sit quietly and listen until needed. Reassuring him that he hadn't shamed anyone seemed useless at this point – he didn't believe her and it was a conversation they would need to have when he was more lucid.

"No" said Tyrion, face contorting as the splint was tightened around his limp wrist "won't give...them what they want"

"What do they want?"

"Hear...a lion cry"

Sansa's blood froze at Tyrion's reply. Was that what those monsters had wanted when they hurt him?

Wolkan's shoulders slumped at the answer, but he smiled kindly at Tyrion "Lion's cry Tyrion – as do wolves, bears, stags and all animals. It doesn't mean they're weak"

"...said nothing...kept quiet" insisted Tyrion, his eyes flickering shut "even when...they...marked me as theirs...made no sound. Sorry…sorry Sansa…shamed her"

His voice broke as he spoke and Sansa leaned forwards, covering his head with light kisses.

"You're not their property – never theirs" she told him "You've been so brave, but you're home now. You don't have to be brave anymore; I'm here to protect you"

His eyes slid shut and Wolkan checked his breathing and vital signs "He's exhausted, your Grace. The longer he was awake the better, but given the state he was in and the fact I've still got his ankle to treat it's perhaps better he's passed out"

Sansa nodded, her own shoulders heaving with unshed tears. She'd kill them – every last one of them who hurt Tyrion. Anyone who helped them would have no mercy from her. When she was finished the Rains of Castamere would sound like a lullaby.

It took another hour until Wolkan had finished treating Tyrion. His left wrist and hand were secured by several splints and encased in thick bandages to cushion the limb. His snapped ankle had fared no better and the Maester had been forced to fashion a wooden frame to hold the bones in place before wrapping it in heavy bandages. They'd had to remove his filthy breeches, and Sansa was quite glad her husband was unconscious for that - no doubt he would've been embarrassed at his nakedness. Wolkan had found some spare breeches that were too big for Tyrion, but after cutting the legs shorter they hung loosely around his waist and their baggy size meant they wouldn't interfere with the splint around his ankle. There wasn't much to do for the brand. A piece of cloth was coated in paste and pressed on top of the burn and bandages were wound diagonally across Tyrion's chest to secure it against the wound. The patch would need changing every day for the next week at least, but it would hopefully prevent a nasty infection. A long recovery, Wolkan told her, a chance his broken bones may not heal properly and leave him lame. Sansa absorbed all the information, learning everything she could to give him the best chance of a full recovery.

"Can he be moved to our rooms?" she asked, eyes focused on her husband's tense face as he slept

"I'd like to observe him for at least a few hours, just to make sure I've missed nothing, but I see no reason he can't be moved to his own bed. He will need to be watched closely and confined to the bed for a while, but it might bring him some comfort"

The old man's gaze was full of pity as he looked at his patient "Your Grace, this has been very difficult for you. If you wish to take some time Tyrion is quite safe with me"

She didn't want to leave him. Sansa thought she might never let him out of her sight again, but the Maester was right – her heart was broken into a thousand pieces and she needed answers. She needed to know exactly what had happened in the Wolfswood and then she needed to get their chambers ready for Tyrion to be moved. Between them, they settled Tyrion on the examination table as he had been before - mostly on his front with pillows cushioning his broken limbs. It certainly wasn't ideal, but it was the setup they would likely need to use for the next week or so until he could lie on his back.

"I'll be back soon" she told him, tucking a blanket around him and kissing his forehead "I love you"

A golden blur streaked past Sansa as she turned to leave and scrambled onto the chair beside the table before leaping up beside Tyrion. The little creature nudged her husband with a soft whine before settling against his stomach.

"Maester Wolkan - thank you" said Sansa, voice heavy as she moved to the door "I don't say that enough do I? I take everyone for granted"

The old man looked exhausted himself, but smiled at her nonetheless "You're very welcome, your Grace. Rest assured - I will monitor lord Tyrion closely"

Sansa took one last look at her husband. He looked so small and vulnerable as he lay on the table - held together by bandages and stitches, with his direwolf pressed against his side. They were all guilty, they all deserved punishment. They'd done this to him; Greyworm, Robin Flint, Gawan Glover and…herself.

* * *

Despite her best efforts Arya's eyes continued to drift closed as she wrote letter after letter in her room. Truthfully, she'd wanted to stay with Tyrion but she understood this was something Sansa needed to do. It had taken far too long but her sister seemed to finally understand what she'd become - and the hurt her actions had caused. When Sansa had fled from Tyrion, Arya had followed with the intention of slapping her sister until someone like Sansa Stark re-emerged from beneath the layers of ice. When she had caught up to her sister it was clear that was no longer necessary - Sansa had been sobbing and it appeared seeing what had been done to Tyrion finally broke her Queen of ice persona.

Arya was exhausted, but there was so much that needed doing. She'd sent fresh riders out to join the search for Gawan and Robin and was in the process of writing to all the houses of the North. Unlike Sansa her message was simple;

_By order of the Queen in the North, Sansa Stark -_

_Lord Robin Flint of Widows Watch, and Lord Gawan Glover of Deepwood Motte are wanted for the following crimes;_

_Treason_

_Engaging in the slave trade_

_Kidnapping_

_Torture_

_Attempted Murder_

_They are to be brought before the Queen immediately if found and any information on them is to be brought to Winterfell. Any who assist them will be judged as guilty to their crimes._

It wasn't her most elegant work, but Arya was too angry and tired to care. She'd expected Tyrion to be hurt; she hadn't expected to find him half-dead. If not for the direwolf she would have been bringing home a corpse. Her hands clenched into fists as she added that letter to the pile she'd already written. Grey Worm had made no protest as they'd chained him up in the dungeon under heavy guard. Arya would much rather be using him for target practice than writing letters, but she consoled herself with the thought his time would come.

A soft knock sounded on her door, and Arya wearily made her way to answer it.

"Arya…"

She froze at the sight of Sansa's shaking body in the doorway. Her sister's face was red and she was hugging herself.

"Are you ok? Where's Tyrion?" she asked, panic bubbling in the pit of her stomach

Sansa sucked in a breath "Tyrion is resting, and I know I should be with him…but I'm not ok"

Her sister's voice broke on the last word and Arya found herself swamped as Sansa collapsed sobbing against her.

"It's so bad Arya" she sobbed "What they did to him…what I did to him. He doesn't deserve it"

"We'll fix this" she said, rubbing her sister's back "We'll make them pay"

"You were right about everything. Tyrion wasn't in his right mind but he woke up and…"

"And?"

"He kept apologising…and he wanted Jamie to take him home…I don't know how to fix this"

Sansa sank to her knees, clutching Arya like a lifeline as she tried to soothe her sister "We'll look after him big sister - it'll be ok"

Arya wasn't particularly good at comforting, and she'd never been that close with Sansa but she didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around her sister. This was long overdue after all. Sobs wracked the Queen's body and Arya found her own eyes growing wet.

Robin and Gawan would die for this; Arya would hunt them to the end of the world if she had to.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

_"Here my pet, it's time for your walk" called Gawan, tugging on the chain connected to the collar around Tyrion's neck_

_The cruel boy was grinning at him as he pulled him forwards. They were in Kings Landing heading towards the Red Keep and no matter how hard he tried Tyrion couldn't get to his feet. Instead he was dragged along on all fours like an animal. His tunic was gone and the back of his shoulder burned painfully. As they approached the Red Keep, thousands lined the street laughing at his humiliation. The people he'd once saved on the Blackwater spat at him and taunted him as he was paraded down the streets._

_"Good boy, we're nearly there" called Gawan cheerfully as the doors to the throne room loomed ahead of them_

_Tyrion tried to escape but he was powerless as Gawan pulled him up the steps and through the open doors._

_"Bet you're proud of yourself, aren't you? Disgusting little creature, shaming the family name"_

_He turned to see his father glowering down at him, as he was dragged past. Tyrion's face glowed red in humiliation as he was led towards the Iron Throne. Thousands had mocked him outside, but the throne room was filled with only a few; and it was their words that cut him the most._

_"Vile little monster" called Cersei "Should have never been born"_

_"Traitor" said Grey Worm, levelling his spear at him_

_More faces he knew were there; Bronn with the crossbow, Shae, Tysha, Missandei, Joffrey_

_All of them were either taunting him or reminding him of his many failures – every word, every threat pierced through him and the burning on his back grew worse_

_"I trusted you; I was your friend and you betrayed me" said Daenerys, purple eyes glowing as bright as fire as she looked down at him_

_"I wasn't wrong about her" said Varys, pity in his eyes "You knew I was right but you sacrificed me to save yourself"_

_"I'm sorry" he said, stumbling along "I'm sorry!"_

_The throne room seemed longer than he remembered but eventually they drew near the Iron Throne; the chair that had cost so many people their lives._

_"You disappointed me"_

_Tyrion raised his head to see Arya staring down at him, grey eyes studying him with distaste "Arya, I'm sorry..."_

_"I treated you like my brother – you don't deserve that title"_

_Tyrion trembled at her look of disgust. The youngest Stark girl turned her gaze from him, flicking her eyes up to the throne. Sansa stood before the seat of power, a crown on her fiery hair._

_"Sansa – I..."_

_"Enough" growled Gawan, tugging on the chain "Good pets don't speak without their master's permission"_

_Sansa's eyes were cold and unforgiving as she studied him "How could I ever love something like you? You're not worthy to stand where my father and brother once stood. I've married a man who is worthy"_

_Tyrion's heart shattered at her words, when a man stepped from the shadows to stand at Sansa's side._

_"Sansa needs a real man - not a pathetic dwarf. Look at the state of you; barely worthy of cleaning the floors" said Robin, smirking at him "It's good she gave you to Gawan – I can see he's left his mark already"_

_The pain in Tyrion's shoulder turned to a throb at the words and Gawan eagerly run his hand over the mark._

_"Took a few lessons, but he's broken in now" beamed Gawan "Shall we give Robin and Sansa their wedding present?"_

_Tyrion shivered on the floor as Gawan handed over a small box "He won't be needing those bits anymore. Nice and smooth down there now"_

_Horror filled Tyrion and he glanced down to find his breeches had disappeared, revealing a jagged scar where his manhood had once been. Laughter broke out around the hall and Sansa joined it as a scream tore from Tyrion's throat..._

* * *

Sansa's eyes grew wet once more as Tyrion squirmed on the bed. After all the tears she'd shed yesterday, it surprised her to find she could cry anymore. Last night she'd gone straight from the Maester's room and broke down to Arya. Her little sister's eyes had widened as she threw herself on top of her and sobbed. She'd confessed everything; from the conversation she'd overheard between lord Glover and lord Manderly about marrying her off, to forcing Tyrion in her bed despite his protests. Her walls of ice had shattered yesterday, giving way to a waterfall of long repressed emotion which even now continued to leak out of her. Unloading all the terrible things she'd done; all the fear and worry she'd carried with her had left Sansa empty inside - fragile enough that any sudden breeze might knock her over and plunge her into despair once more.

Arya hadn't judged her; she seemed to already know or have guessed most of what Sansa confessed. Her little sister had merely looked at her with pity and charged her to make it right. How could she possibly make this right? Sansa had raped her husband; forcing him through the act both times knowing he didn't want it. Her skin crawled as she remembered the justifications she'd made for her actions - there was no excuse for it. Tyrion had been nothing but kind to her since they married in Kings Landing, going against his father's orders and not consummating the marriage, doing what he could to make life a little more bearable; and she'd betrayed him horribly. She'd trusted Robin and Gawan, turning a blind eye to their often cruel jokes at Tyrion's expense and treated them as honoured guests. Yet she'd made certain Tyrion would be brought North in chains, humbled before all the lords and ladies.

"Shh, you're ok" she soothed, tucking the blankets around Tyrion as the frown on his sleeping face deepened

After Sansa had cried herself out, Arya had told her everything she'd seen in the Wolfswood. No detail was spared and the image it painted would haunt her for the rest of her life. Her husband chained to a post in the snow, about to be executed when Arya and the men arrived. Sansa shuddered. Grey Worm would have killed Tyrion if not for the direwolf; her sister said they were too far away to stop him. Her eyes wandered to the small wolf pup lying at Tyrion's feet. She'd asked a servant to bring a bowl of water and some food for the creature which he eagerly devoured before returning to his place beside his master.

Hearing the full story of what Arya had seen hadn't added much to what they already knew. Her sister believed Grey Worm wasn't involved in the plan to sell the women into slavery and the unsullied leader had been used by Robin and Gawan. Then there was the issue of finding her former friends. Letters had been sent to every Northern house demanding their capture and she'd written to Bran as well, pleading with her brother to help find them before they could escape justice. Lord Robett Glover had been sent a longer letter detailing the crimes his son was accused of, and it was still unknown whether he was involved or not. A headache began to form as her mind automatically started looking at what she could do and what actions to take.

Then Tyrion started to fidget under the pile of blankets and nothing else mattered. The politics, the game that had ruled her life the last few years faded to non-existence as she leaned forward in her chair to comfort her husband.

"You're all that matters now" she said, stroking his face to calm him "like you should have been before"

He didn't answer and the frown on his face didn't lessen no matter how much she tried to soothe him. Last night a man who was apparently the captain of the Winterfell guards had carried Tyrion from the Maester's room to their chambers. Alec, her sister had called him - he was friends with her husband. The man had helped to settle Tyrion in the bed and then gone off to organise more search parties for the monsters that hurt the lord of Winterfell.

Sansa wondered if it was possible to drown in guilt. Yesterday's realisation of her actions hadn't just shone a light on her treatment of Tyrion, but her actions in general. Her father had known every member of the Winterfell household and treated them with kindness. He'd listened to lords and smallfolk with equal attention and earned his reputation as an honourable, kind lord. Her parents would be utterly ashamed to see their eldest daughter disgracing the family name. The small folk had no love for her; the guards and servants feared her - she was becoming Cersei Lannister and the thought filled her with revulsion.

All night and through the next day Sansa had kept watch over her husband, positioning herself in a chair by his side of the bed. Maester Wolkan had given him milk of the poppy last night to ease the pain and Tyrion hadn't woken since, though he appeared to be suffering nightmares. Every so often he would start to move on the bed and Sansa would try and keep him still, whispering reassurances in his ear.

He settled again and Sansa sighed, reaching for her needle work. The lion blanket she'd made for Tyrion was draped over him, and she hoped it might offer him some comfort. As soon as Tyrion was coherent enough she would tell him the truth about King's Landing. He deserved to know exactly what she'd taken away from him, and she owed him so many apologies. For now all she could do was wait and hope her husband would heal.

* * *

"Ser Podrick, you wish to ask me something?"

"No, your Grace" he said, shifting on the spot in Bran Stark's chambers

Bran tilted his head to one side, observing his sworn shield. The young man was dutiful and kind. His loyalty was unquestionable, but for all of that he was a poor liar.

"You wish to know how lord Tyrion fares?"

Ser Podrick swallowed "It's not my place..."

"He's back at Winterfell"

The tension left Pod's face at the words "That is good your Grace"

_'Is it?'_ wandered Bran_ 'That depends if Sansa has learned her lesson I suppose'_

It would do no good to voice these thoughts to Podrick; it was a family matter after all. The afternoon sun crept into Bran's room as he stared out of the window. He'd seen Tyrion's time as a captive through the eyes of the raven, and he'd seen Grey Worm move to kill him. Bran had been unable to intervene; the Old Gods power held great influence in the North and their power had limited his own. The direwolf pup had puzzled him. Bran Stark could warg into any animal, but the connection was strongest with wolves. Yet he hadn't seen the golden direwolf in any of his visions and hadn't been able to warg into or even sense the creature.

It was strange to see a direwolf so far south of the wall. Summer had bonded to Bran like his siblings wolves had bonded to them; but they all had the blood of the North in them - Tyrion did not. Though it was impossible to deny the connection between the wolf and Tyrion. The little creature had saved the dwarf and raced immediately to his side afterwards. Of all the possible futures and events he'd seen, at no point had he seen another direwolf. Bran's face grew pensive; it was certainly a curious development.

* * *

Sansa lay her head against Tyrion while Maester Wolkan changed the bandages around his chest. He was lying against her while the old man checked the stitches that stretched down from the bottom of his chest and across his ribs. Arya had told her how that injury happened. The top of the wound was just below his heart. If the direwolf hadn't attacked Grey Worm, Tyrion would be dead. Instead the spear thrust had carved a vicious line across his torso, certain to leave a nasty scar. Too close; it had been far too close.

"That seems to be healing well enough, as does the wound on his arm. I'll change the cloth covering the burn on his shoulder and put fresh bandages on"

Tyrion remained unconscious in Sansa's arms, lying against her like a small child. The slash on his arm would leave another scar, and her heart twisted at the thought. He looked so innocent as the Maester bound his injuries again; it wasn't fair. How could anyone hurt him?

_'You hurt him'_ taunted her mind

"Why won't he wake up?" asked Sansa, lying her cheek on the top of his head "He's going to die isn't he?"

"I've seen nothing to suggest lord Tyrion will not recover in time, your Grace" said the Maester "Though it's important to continue monitoring him - it's possible he will pick up an illness. These things don't always happen straightaway"

"His eyes never open. He squirms on the bed though, like he's having nightmares"

Wolkan smiled at her gently "That's a good sign, your Grace. I would be much more worried if he wasn't moving at all, though it would be best to try and keep him still lest he aggravate his injuries. His rest is long overdue"

Sansa's brow furrowed "What do you mean?"

"Lord Tyrion has hardly ate or slept since he came to Winterfell, eventually his body would have turned on him. This incident has forced him into a rest he was badly in need of. It's natural he's not woken yet"

Familiar guilt gripped Sansa as she held her husband tighter - she should have noticed he wasn't well. She should have taken care of him before now.

* * *

"Appreciate you letting me see him"

Arya glanced sideways at the wilding woman as they moved towards the Queen's chambers.

"It's only fair you see what happened to him after he rescued you"

"Bet your sister aint pleased" said Rose, as they approached the door

Arya didn't respond but led the way into Sansa and Tyrion's rooms. The women who Tyrion had rescued were leaving today and Rose had asked to see the lord of Winterfell before she left. The few girls taken from the nearby villages had already gone but the bulk of the women were wildlings and they were heading back to the Gift with several Winterfell guards as escorts.

As expected her sister was sat at her unconscious husband's bedside which she hadn't left for the past two days.

"Hi big brother" said Arya, moving to see Tyrion

He hadn't woken at all since Wolkan treated his injuries when he first came home and it was worrying Sansa to no end. It worried Arya too, but she thought it was kinder to let Tyrion sleep through the worst of the pain – he would wake up when he was well enough.

Sansa rose from her chair, eyes locked onto the wildling woman.

"You wanted to see lord Tyrion" she said, tone cold

"Aye, little lord saved us all. Heard rumours he got hurt bad for it – looks like they were true"

"They tortured him" said Sansa wrapping her arms around herself

Rose moved further into the room, and Arya stood close to the bed observing the two women. Sansa was blocking Rose from getting close to Tyrion and she was intrigued to see how the wildling woman would handle it.

"He could have escaped you know" said Rose, pausing her approach

Sansa's body went rigid, and it was Arya who answered "What do you mean?"

"I told you he was tied to a post beside the barn. He spent all day sawing the ropes against the wood and freed himself. Could have gone into the Wolfswood alone and found that hidden path he sent us down – he could have saved himself. I asked him why he didn't leave on his own; it would have been easier, but he said he wouldn't let us be sold into slavery. Rather than leave he came up with a plan and helped us escape"

A lump formed in Arya's throat at the information. Tyrion could have saved himself, but he chose to save the women from a terrible fate instead.

"I told ya he's a hero" continued Rose "Me and him were the last to leave and when we were followed he stayed behind to fight; letting us escape"

"And look what they did to him!" said Sansa voice rising "Why are you here? You have your freedom. Tyrion might never recover"

"Sansa, let her see" said Arya, stepping away from the bed and gently leading her sister to the other side of it

Tyrion's direwolf raised its head as Rose approached, eyeing her warily before relaxing on the bed again.

Rose sank into the seat beside the bed, pulling the covers back to see the full extent of the damage. Arya knew her sister didn't want people to know how badly Tyrion had been hurt, but too many guards had seen him in the Wolfswood and word was already spreading throughout the North about what had been done to the lord of Winterfell. Tyrion would be humiliated to know the whole of the North knew what had happened to him, but as far as Arya was concerned it was more evidence against Robin and Gawan – Tyrion was a hero and he had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Is it true?" asked Rose, raising her eyes from Tyrion "Did they brand him?"

Sansa trembled next to her and Arya nodded stiffly. The wildling woman gazed at Tyrion a moment longer before pulling the blankets over him again.

"Thank you little lord" she said, face grim "Aint many who'd do what you did. Most would save their own skin"

Rose stood, locking eyes with Sansa as she swept down and kissed Tyrion's head lightly "Tell him when he wakes up if he ever needs us to send word to the Gift. The free folk owe him a debt and he has my respect now – aint many lords who earn that"

"If he wakes up" snapped Sansa, glaring at the wildling

Rose turned to leave "He's a tough little lion; he'll wake up"

"Tyrion will wake up Sansa" said Arya, nudging her sister

Rose's eyes flicked between them before landing on the direwolf pup at Tyrion's feet "Don't see many direwolves south of the wall"

Arya followed her gaze "It saved his life in the Wolfswood and hasn't left his side since"

"It is strange" agreed Sansa, moving back to her seat at the bedside and fussing over Tyrion

The wildling shook her head "That aint strange – that's a gift from the North for the lord of Winterfell"

* * *

_Tyrion didn't like this dream. He'd had it so many times over the past few years and it often came back to haunt him._

_He was back in Kings Landing after he was accused of Joffrey's murder - left to rot in the black cells awaiting his trial. Only this time, the trial never came. He wrapped his arms around himself as he huddled in the corner of his cell. He'd been here so long and no-one ever came to see him. He tried calling for help but no-one could hear him. The door wouldn't budge and Tyrion knew with certainty he'd been forgotten._

_There would be no trial._

_He would be left in that cell to die alone. Tyrion shivered. He didn't want to die alone. No-one would miss him. Maybe Jamie would be a little sad but Cersei would soon distract him._

_His father would be relieved to find his rotted corpse; he'd probably just toss it into the sea. Tywin Lannister would go on pretending he had no second son. Cersei would be delighted, if she had her way his head would decorate a spike._

_The single candle illuminating his cell was rapidly burning down. Tyrion buried his head in his arms. It wasn't fair. He hadn't killed Joffrey, but he was going to die for it anyway. Why did everyone want him dead? It wasn't his fault he was a dwarf, or his mother died giving birth to him._

_He'd done his best as hand of the King to help the people of Kings Landing and they'd turned on him without a second thought. Tyrion shivered as the candle flickered out, plunging his cell into darkness. His own family hated him enough that they would let him die for something he didn't do. Was he really so horrible? Everything he'd done had been to try and help his family, make them proud rather than ashamed of him. It wasn't enough; no matter what he did. Now he would die alone and forgotten._

* * *

Sansa rubbed her eyes as she watched Tyrion. She was so tired. It was late into the second day since he'd been moved into their room and he hadn't woken up yet, though he continued to squirm and fidget under the covers. Yesterday Maester Wolkan had told her he could be given some light food and water to build up his strength so Arya had helped to prop him up while she spooned some soup into his mouth. It broke her heart to see him so helpless. Sansa had hoped he might wake up after being fed but he hadn't, and they'd repeated the same today with the same result.

He might never wake up. The thought had lurked in the back of her mind since he was brought back to Winterfell and grew stronger every time she looked at his sleeping face. Sansa sagged in the chair. Was her last memory of Tyrion going to be his frightened pleading to go home as he trembled in her arms? The thought of his death had established a firm grip on her mind and she found her thoughts growing increasingly morbid.

She'd have to make the funeral arrangements. Where would he be buried? Casterly Rock was his ancestral home but she'd taken that away from him; Winterfell was his home now. She'd never asked him what he'd prefer. He should be buried in the crypts with the past lords of Winterfell, where she and Arya could visit him. They were his family after all.

Sansa was just compiling a list of people who might be suitable for making his statue, when her door opened and her sister entered the room. Arya moved to her side, gazing down at Tyrion.

"How is he?" she asked

"The same" said Sansa, biting back a yawn "Do you think he'd mind being buried in the crypts? I know Casterly Rock is where he was born, but he's our family now. Surely he should rest with the previous lords of Winterfell"

Arya's mouth fell open and her eyes widened at Sansa "He's not going to die Sansa - he's just resting"

"He won't wake up" she said rubbing at her face "I don't blame him. There were so many times I wished I wouldn't wake up when Ramsay had me…"

"Stop that! You're not Ramsay" said Arya, gripping Sansa's shoulder and squeezing "You've done some horrible things to Tyrion - I won't lie. Do you regret them?"

"Of course I do. If I could do anything to take back hurting him I would, but I can't Arya and Tyrion's going to die and I'll never get a chance to make things right with him and he's going to die thinking I don't love him" said Sansa, words tumbling out in a rush "and I love him more than anything, but I never told him and now it's too late!"

Sansa's head ached as she slumped in the chair, a shiver going through her. Arya gripped her wrist guiding her hand to the bed and placing it on Tyrion's neck.

"Can you feel that?" asked Arya

She nodded, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingers.

"Good" said Arya "Now you need to rest, I'll watch Tyrion"

"I'm not leaving him"

"Then get in the bed next to him, or you can use my bed - either way you're sleeping"

"No, he needs me. What if he dies and I'm not here?"

Arya sighed "Sansa, I know you're scared but I promise he'll wake up. You'll get your chance to apologise. You felt his heartbeat didn't you? He's just resting and it's for the best. He'd be in a lot of pain if he was awake"

There was truth in her sister's words Sansa realised, as she brushed her hand over Tyrion's face "I don't want to lose him"

"Neither do I" agreed Arya, pulling Sansa from the chair and dropping into it herself "Now you need to rest"

"Arya, thank you but really…"

"Don't try and tell me your fine" said Arya raising an eyebrow "You were just planning your husbands funeral - clearly you need sleep. You're no help to Tyrion if you get sick"

Reluctantly Sansa nodded her agreement. She swayed where she stood and turned her attention to Tyrion, tucking the blankets tightly around him and gently kissing his head.

"I love you" she whispered "please come back to me"

"Are you staying here or going to my room?" asked Arya, throwing her legs over the arm of the chair

"I'll use your room" she said, heading to the door. It didn't seem right to lie next to her husband until she'd had a chance to speak with him at least.

"Good, you've been hogging him for days. I want to spend some time with my brother too"

"Promise you'll get me straight away if anything changes" said Sansa, locking eyes with her younger sister

"I promise" said Arya, rolling her eyes before turning her gaze to Tyrion "You're actually my least irritating sibling, you know? Sansa's impossible, Bran's some kind of mystic and Jon's just like father. You're much easier to deal with big brother"

"You're impossible too Arya!" called Sansa, heading through the doorway

* * *

Awareness crept slowly back to Tyrion, and he wasn't sure how long he drifted between unconscious and conscious. The first indication he was alive was the pain. The left side of his body appeared to be the centre of the pounding ache that enveloped him. Slowly, he began to discern one ache from the next. His arm and ankle were the worst, a throbbing pain enveloping both limbs. The brand on his shoulder was burning too, though not as violently as it had before. A familiar splitting sensation covered his face, reminding him of the aftermath of the battle of Blackwater but not quite as intense. The sensation was worse across his chest and his upper arm, as if there was something stuck between the skin.

Tyrion tried to move but his body was too heavy and he was forced to remain where he was. That was a good question - where was he? He was comfortable. There was something soft underneath him and he was quite warm. His body wouldn't really cooperate with his attempts to move, so instead he focused on opening his eyes. Light flickered into his dark world and he blinked wearily, trying to focus. A soft bark sounded from somewhere as he tried to lift his head.

"Tyrion?"

He knew that voice. The images in his vision became clearer, and he found himself staring into the blue eyes of Sansa Stark. Her fiery red hair framed her pale face as she leaned closer to him.

"Sansa?" he said, voice muffled by what he now realised was a pillow

"Are you really awake?" she asked, brushing her hand over his head

"I think so"

Tyrion gazed past Sansa, taking in his surroundings. He was in their chambers at Winterfell, he realised. His mind was sluggish to start with, but slowly a picture formed. He remembered now. Grey Worm had been about to stab him. Arya had arrived with the Winterfell guards. Guilt and panic rose simultaneously in Tyrion - he'd asked them to leave him there. He couldn't let Sansa see what had happened to him. She'd hate him; he had to leave.

He pushed up from the bed with marginally more success this time, though the movement sent spikes of pain throughout his body. Sansa's hands were on him in an instant, pressing him against the bed once more.

"Stay still!" she said, panic in her voice "You're really hurt, please rest. You're safe I promise"

Warm hands pressed against him, tucking the blankets around him. He shouldn't be here - in Winterfell. But his head had gone dizzy as soon as he tried to move and he found himself powerless to resist as Sansa settled him against the soft bed.

"Sansa, I'm so sorry" he said, dropping his gaze from Sansa's face.

Instead he focused on his broken wrist, lying on a cushion at his side. The limb was encased in layers of bandages and Tyrion couldn't move his hand or fingers at all – presumably some kind of splint was pinning them in place. Warm breath tickled his face as Sansa placed a long kiss against his cheek.

"Don't apologise Tyrion, you've done nothing wrong"

"I shamed you Sansa" he said, eyes downcast.

"Never. I missed you so much" said Sansa, gently tilting his face to meet hers.

Her eyes glistened with tears, but she was smiling at him. Tyrion's stomach twisted. Why was she being so nice?

"If you saw what they did to me Sansa...I should have fought harder. I shouldn't have been taken in the first place" he said, half burying his face in the pillow and away from her soft gaze

"Do you mean the brand?" she asked quietly, twirling her fingers through his hair, which he seemed to have a lot less of.

His heart raced. She had seen it. If she'd seen that then she'd seen the scars on his back...

_'Stupid dwarf'_ he thought as realisation came to him_ 'look at yourself, you're only wearing breeches. Everyone's probably seen the scars'_

"Tyrion? Relax sweetheart, you're ok" she soothed as his body grew tense

"You saw it?" he asked, screwing his eyes shut "The scars on my back too?"

"Look at me" said Sansa, tugging his head out from the pillow so she could see his face "The mark on your shoulder is nothing to be ashamed of"

"Yes it is" he said "They were going to brand the girls before they sold them but when they escaped they branded me instead. I'm sorry I couldn't stop them"

"This is not your fault. That mark just proves how strong you are. All those women are safe because of you; I heard what you did for them my brave little lion"

"You don't understand" he said, voice breaking. Sansa was looking at him with such tenderness, but she didn't understand. He'd lied to her.

"Help me to understand" she said, studying him "Would you like to sit up for a little bit?"

Sansa didn't wait for his answer and to his shame he was no use as she manoeuvred him upright, propping him against the pillows and headboard. His body trembled, and pain stabbed through him at the change of positions. Sansa moved a couple of cushions out of the way and sat on the bed next to him.

"Is your shoulder ok sitting like that?" she asked studying his face "Maester Wolkan said you shouldn't lie on it for a couple of weeks at least"

"It's fine" he said, dropping his eyes to the bed "I shouldn't be here Sansa"

"Where should you be?"

"Away. Out of sight and out of mind" said Tyrion, his heart cracking as he spoke "I'll take the black. That will leave you free to marry again and rid you of any responsibility you feel towards me"

"Tyrion..."

"But I beg you; please don't marry Robin or Gawan - they're cruel. They could hurt you. Please stay away from them" he lifted his head to look at her "I couldn't stand the thought of them near you – I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but please my Queen - don't trust them"

Sansa's face was frozen in shock at his words, before it crumpled to tears and she carefully wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh Tyrion, you're a good man and I've been really awful to you" she said, arms shaking "You're my husband from this day until your last day. I'm never going to marry anyone else, and the next time I see Robin and Gawan will be the day they're executed for hurting you"

"Sansa, you can't...I've lied to you. I'm not fit to be your husband, to be anyone's husband. What Robin and Gawan told you about me is true" he said as Sansa pulled back from hugging him.

Her face was red and tear stained as she grasped his right hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. She said nothing and Tyrion forged ahead; Sansa had to understand exactly what he was, but it was hard to tell her when she was looking at him so sweetly. He should have told her long ago.

"In Essos, Jorah and I were caught by slavers. They put us in chains and sold us at an auction. They only wanted to buy Jorah but I convinced them to buy me too so we wouldn't get separated. We ended up in the fighting pits at Mereen where I met Daenerys. I'm so sorry Sansa; I should have told you before you married me. You could get an annulment, as Queen I'm sure they wouldn't refuse you. Tell them I lied to you; tell them whatever you wish I won't contradict you"

His body was trembling as he finished, but Sansa was still rubbing his hand. What was she waiting for? Just get rid of him and be done with it.

"Look at me" she said, placing her hand on his jaw and turning his head to face her "I'm so sorry about what happened to you in Essos – that must have been a horrible experience. You didn't have to tell me; there's things Ramsay did to me I've not told anyone. I understand not wanting to talk about the past"

His battered heart thumped painfully at the look of sympathy across her face – he didn't deserve it.

"I'm not getting an annulment either" she said, holding his face "I was angry when I saw the old scars across your back"

"Sansa I'm –"

"I was angry because those scars meant someone had hurt you. You don't have to tell me what happened; you never have to tell me. But if you ever trust me enough to share your pain I'm here. Please let me help you" said Sansa, blue eyes shining "When I saw what those monsters had done to you - I cried. My sweet, kind husband suffering at the hands of those butchers"

"You're too kind to me" he said face growing warm "You deserve a knight in shining armour"

"You're far more than I deserve" said Sansa, stroking his cheek "I love you Tyrion. I've treated you terribly and I'd understand if you never forgave me – but I'll make this up to you somehow"

A lump formed in Tyrion's throat as she spoke. Could she love him? No, that was impossible - however desperately he wanted to believe her. She felt sorry for him right now, but she'd get over it in a few days and realise how disgusting he actually is. A few minutes passed with Sansa rubbing his hand while he wondered what she would do with him.

"I..I need to tell you something" said Sansa, squeezing his hand

Her normally proud face was full of regret as he looked at her. This was it; she was going to ask him to leave.

"I understand Sansa - it's for the best that I go. If you don't want me to take the black…I'll go somewhere else. You'll never have to see me again"

"No! Please don't talk about leaving, I only just got you back" she said, lifting his right hand and kissing it "I have to tell you something…something terrible. I'm so sorry Tyrion. No matter what, I want you to know this is your home and we're your family"

Tyrion's stomach fluttered looking at Sansa's guilty face. What could she need to tell him?

"Do you remember when Bran sentenced you in Kings Landing?" she asked, fiddling with his hand

Tyrion nodded "He took away my land and titles, banishing me from the six kingdoms of Westeros. He gave me to you"

Sansa grimaced hanging her head "Bran sentenced you like that because I asked him to. He wasn't going to banish you - he was going to name you hand of the King"

A thousand thoughts raced through Tyrion's mind. Why on Earth would anyone want him to be their hand?

"You would have been the lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and hand of the King" she continued, voice breaking "I asked Bran to banish you instead and give you to me. I'm so sorry Tyrion"

"It's alright Sansa" he said, as her shoulders shook

"No, it's not. What I did was selfish. Everyone else was leaving me and I wanted to keep you close. You're one of the only people I trust and Kings Landing is such a horrible place I thought if I brought you North I could keep you safe - keep you with me" she said, tears streaming down her face "but I've treated you horribly. I had no right to take you away from your home"

Tyrion shifted slightly against the headboard, and tried to smile at her. He hated seeing Sansa upset.

"I was a prisoner in Kings Landing. My fate was yours to decide. I do not deserve to be hand of the King or hold my family's titles any more than I deserve to be your husband or the lord of Winterfell. Sansa, I should have lost my head. Instead you took me into your home and I let you down"

Sansa's blue eyes were swimming in guilt as she looked at him, but Tyrion meant what he said. He was at their mercy in Kings Landing, and prisoners did not get a vote.

"You've never let me down and this is your home" she said, clutching his hand "I'm sorry for everything Tyrion. I'll make this up to you, if you'll let me. You're not a prisoner here; whatever you want is yours"

His throat constricted at Sansa's words. She leaned forward cupping his face and pressed her soft lips onto his.

"I love you so much - I know I haven't shown you, but it'll be different from now on" she promised, pulling back from him

He slumped against the pillows, his eyelids growing heavy. He hadn't been awake long but already he was growing tired. He should be stronger than this. Sansa felt guilty about his sentence - that explained why she wouldn't send him away even though she should. It would be for the best, he'd humiliated her. She'd trusted him with the title her father and brother held with honour before him and he'd allowed two stupid boys to degrade him.

The blankets rustled, drawing his attention and a small creature with golden fur scrambled towards him.

"Is that the wolf that attacked Grey Worm?" he asked as the creature nudged him with a wet nose. He vaguely recalled seeing a golden blur dart past him and attack the unsullied leader

Sansa smiled at the creature "He's your direwolf"

Tyrion shook his head "I'm not a Stark - I can't have a direwolf"

"Of course you can"

"He ripped Grey Worm's fingers off" said Tyrion, tilting his head back as the wolf pup tried to lick his face

"He won't hurt you Tyrion" she said with a light laugh "He's your direwolf - they can be dangerous, but not to their masters"

"You or Arya should have him. You're both Starks and you both lost your own"

Sansa's eyes grew misty as she shook her head, taking Tyrion's right hand and placing it on the creature's fur "That's very sweet, but he's meant for you. Our wolves were bonded to us like this one is bonded to you"

The wolf pup leaned into Tyrion's hand as Sansa guided him to stroke his soft fur. Bright green eyes gazed up at him, tilting his head to one side. Tyrion swallowed hard. This wasn't right - he didn't belong in Winterfell or deserve a direwolf. He needed to leave.

"You look tired my love" said Sansa, brushing his hair "let me take care of you"

Tiredness was overcoming him and he was helpless to protest as Sansa poured some medicine down his throat and settled him back on his side in the bed, propping his broken limbs on cushions once more.

He dropped his gaze from Sansa as she tucked the blankets around him. The direwolf had curled up near his feet. Already his eyes were sliding shut. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be letting Sansa take care of him.

"I love you" she said kissing his forehead "I'm so sorry for all of this. You're safe here; I won't let anyone hurt you ever again"


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Sansa wrapped her arms around herself, watching her husband sleep. She should be happy – Tyrion had woken up after three days of rest and they'd been able to have a proper conversation. It hadn't gone exactly as she'd imagined however.

Tyrion had been very committed to blaming himself for what happened. Apologies and reasons why he should be sent away had poured from him, as if he was going to be thrown out like a stray dog. Sansa rubbed her temples – it had hurt to hear him say those things. His normally warm green eyes had been distant and full of hatred; but only for himself. Sansa knew she should be grateful her husband had forgiven her so easily for how he was sentenced in Kings Landing, but she honestly thought it might have been better if he'd shouted or got angry. He'd accepted her role in the demise of his house without protest, reassuring her that it had been her right to decide his fate along with King Bran and the lords of Westeros.

Perhaps it had been too soon to tell him. He'd only just woken up after a traumatic experience and was surely in a lot of pain, but Tyrion had confessed to being sold as a slave in Essos as if he expected her to disown him then and there – confessing her own secret had felt right in the moment. She still couldn't wrap her head around the idea of Tyrion being bought and sold like livestock. It just wasn't something she wanted to imagine, but the scars on his back were proof enough he'd suffered horribly in Essos. By the end of their talk, his head had been drooping and she worried he'd done too much. Rather than keep giving him milk of the poppy, Maester Wolkan had left a different medicine that would ease some of his pain without knocking him out completely and she'd insisted he drink some before she settled him down to rest again.

The door creaked open but Sansa didn't bother turning around; she knew who it was.

"I got your message" said Arya stopping beside the chair "How is he?"

"He said he was ok, but it was obvious he was in a lot of pain" said Sansa "I sat him up for a while but he was struggling to stay awake"

"Did you get a chance to talk with him?"

"I did – and I told him everything"

"And?"

"He forgave me straight away" said Sansa biting her lip

Her sister hummed beside her "That's his immediate reaction. When he has time to think about it he might be angry Sansa"

"I don't think so. He's convinced Bran should have taken his head and doesn't deserve to be in our home"

"It's his home too"

"Try telling that to Tyrion"

"I have - repeatedly" said Arya, dropping on to the edge of the bed.

Tyrion's direwolf had apparently decided his master needed him and the golden wolf pup was now lying on the pillow near his broken wrist.

"What did he say?" asked Arya, ruffling the wolf's fur

Sansa leaned back in the chair "Well he apologised a lot, mentioned how he shamed us several times and told me he was going to take the black"

"Ah Sansa, he just needs time"

"He also begged me to not marry Robin Flint or Gawan Glover as he's afraid they'll hurt me"

Arya's expression grew solemn "They should be afraid of us"

"Agreed"

"The nights watch doesn't really exist anymore – he'd end up living among the free folk like Jon" mused Arya

"There is no chance I'm letting him near any wildlings. Especially not after he saved those women"

"Afraid they'll steal him away?" said Arya with a smirk

"Absolutely. Did you hear how they were talking about him in the great hall?" said Sansa, crossing her arms "They would be lining up to be his spear wife"

The story of how Tyrion had saved the missing girls had spread like wildfire, and she'd heard more than one report of how well her husband was now regarded among the wildling women. If she and Tyrion ever went near the Gift it would be under armed escort.

"Well they're gone now; a few of the guards are escorting them back to the Gift"

"Good - one less problem to deal with" muttered Sansa, eyeing her sleeping husband. Even as he slept his brow was furrowed as if he was thinking too hard

Arya turned to Tyrion, whispering to him "I think Sansa's getting jealous"

"I'm not jealous - I'm the Queen" said Sansa, straightening in her chair "but I'm also a Stark and if any of those women attempt to steal my husband they'll understand the true meaning of Winter"

Her little sister stared at her for a moment, before her face cracked into a grin and they both burst out laughing.

"I'd pay to see you duelling with a wildling over Tyrion!" said Arya with a snort

"I hope you know I'd win"

"Without doubt"

It was good to laugh with Arya - how long had it been since she'd laughed with her sister? But as her eyes fell on her husband, the reality of the situation sobered her mood. Her sister followed her gaze, her own smile turning to a grim line.

"Are we any closer to finding them?"

Arya shook her head "From what we can gather, Tyrion ruined their slavery business. We have no idea what they might do next, but if they're smart they'll try to escape the North and flee Westeros"

"They're not smart" said Sansa, face hardening

"I think we need to ask Tyrion what exactly happened - we've only really heard second hand accounts. There could be some clue about what they're planning next and he's the main witness against them"

"He won't want to talk about it. I wouldn't either"

"I get that" agreed Arya "but he needs to talk about it"

Sansa's heart constricted. Arya was right - it was important Tyrion spoke to someone about what he'd been through. After Daenerys burned Kings Landing and he was thrown in prison no-one checked on him or bothered talking to him about it at all. He'd seen thousands burn and then been locked away for weeks. Sansa could see clearly now. How had she not noticed his changed behaviour when he came to Winterfell? He didn't drink, he hardly spoke and was a shadow of his former self.

"I don't want to force him anymore Arya"

"That's good but he might need a bit of a push Sansa. Things can't go back to the way they were - you need to talk to him"

"He speaks to me like his Queen not his wife"

Guilt clawed up her throat watching Tyrion sleep. The fact he'd woken up and been coherent enough to talk had brought her great relief - but he was by no means recovered. His physical injuries could leave him crippled and Sansa didn't want to think about the mental wounds he'd suffered. The few bits and pieces of his suffering she'd heard already were enough to haunt her.

Arya stood from the bed locking eyes with her sister "He's bottled up everything for too long Sansa; it's bound to break free eventually. You should understand that - you're more alike than you think"

_'The disgraced daughter and the demon monkey; we're perfect for each other'_

Tyrion's sardonic voice from years ago echoed through her mind and she focused her attention on the steady rise and fall of his small body under the blankets.

"I should have talked to him long before now" said Sansa "You and Maester Wolkan both told me he wasn't well and I refused to see it"

"When he came to Winterfell I tried to tell him he could talk to me, but he never did. The most I got out of him was when we sparred the night before he went missing"

Sansa fiddled with the sleeves of her gown "What did you find out?"

Her sister leaned forward as if she was going to divulge a great secret "That's between me and my brother. You'll have to find out on your own"

"Arya!" she groaned, slumping in the chair

"Sorry big sister, but you need to get to know Tyrion yourself not use me as your master of whisperers. Besides he didn't really tell me anything of consequence"

"Will you at least tell me how you got him talking? After what happened between us before he was taken…I don't think he'll open up to me again"

So much guilt, Sansa could have swum in it. That one night nearly two weeks ago when they'd bonded - talking and laughing until she demanded an heir from him. His broken hearted face as he lay beneath her was a constant feature of her nightmares.

Her little sister knew what she was referring to. Sansa's breakdown a few days ago had led to her confessing everything she'd done, and every regret she held.

"Well I was sparring with him. If I hit him he had to answer my question"

Sansa snorted "I'm sure that was fair"

"You underestimate him - he was actually quite good with a sword. He hit me a few times so I had to answer his questions too"

"That won't work for me" said Sansa, her sharp mind analysing the situation "They hurt him so badly…you said he liked training with a sword - what if he can't do that anymore?"

It would be cruel for the one thing Tyrion apparently enjoyed to be taken from him, but Sansa's eyes wandered over his mangled arm and came to rest on his snapped ankle. Maester Wolkan said it was a bad break - a good chance it wouldn't heal properly. His arm was even more delicate. Many Maesters would have removed his hand rather than try and fix the broken fingers and small bones in the limb.

"He will use a sword again - I'll make sure of it" said Arya, sliding off the bed "At least it's not his sword hand they broke"

Sansa leaned towards Tyrion, stroking the fingers poking out beneath layers of bandages "I'd like to see you with a sword - I'm sure you look very dashing"

"Do you want to take a break and I'll stay with him?"

"No. Thank you Arya, but I'd like to stay with him" said Sansa, eyes growing warm as she watched him sleep

"I'll come and see you both later then"

Her sister left, leaving Sansa alone with Tyrion once more. Arya was right; she needed to get to know her husband. She'd spent far too long waiting for the Tyrion she'd married in Kings Landing to reappear; he was different now and she needed to accept that. Sansa wasn't the same girl she'd once been either. This wouldn't be easy; Tyrion's shame and self-loathing had been apparent throughout their brief conversation. Changing that would be difficult, but she would do it.

"I'll take care of you" she promised "You're mine to protect"

* * *

Tyrion turned his head away from Arya, instead focusing on what Maester Wolkan was doing. The old man had come to check his injuries and Arya had apparently been sitting with him. The change of positions had jolted him awake to find the younger Stark girl holding him upright. Unlike his now regular dreams of Sansa and Arya looking at him with disgust, Arya had grinned at him when she realised he was awake.

"Good to see you big brother" she'd said, propping him against the headboard while Wolkan examined him

The Maester had asked him a few questions about how he felt, checking his head and eyes before he moved to change the bandages around his chest. Arya was sat on the edge of the bed beside him, gripping his good arm to keep him upright. It was humiliating - he hated being this weak and dependant on others. All his life he'd been told what a burden he was, this was just providing more evidence of the fact.

"Are you ok Tyrion?" she asked, leaning her head forwards to catch his eye

"I'm fine" he said, keeping his eyes on Wolkan as the bandages were removed to reveal a long slash that curved from the bottom of his chest and across his left ribs. It was a gruesome sight - held together by dozens of neat stitches.

"That's going to leave a wicked scar" said Arya, following his gaze

_'Another for my collection. Each makes me more monstrous than the last'_ he thought, surveying the damage his once friend had inflicted

"The wound appears to be healing well enough" said the Maester, pressing some foul smelling liquid against it "I need to wrap this again, examine the slash on your arm and then check the burn on your shoulder. Is that alright, my lord?"

'I'm not a lord' he thought, but he nodded at the Maester who resumed his work

"Sansa will be back soon" said Arya "I can get her now if you'd prefer her to be here?"

"No...I'm sorry Arya" he said, realising she was taking his silence as not wanting her there "I'm being rude - neither of you need to stay with me. I'm sure there are better things to be doing"

"Don't be stupid" said Arya, leaning her head against his "You're my brother - I'm not going to leave you and neither is Sansa"

"You should"

"If you say you've shamed us one more time I might punch you"

"You'd punch a cripple?" he said, trying to lift his shattered wrist.

His hand and fingers ached while his wrist throbbed. Stiff pieces of wood were pinning everything in place, but Tyrion knew he was lucky to still have his hand attached; however useless it might be to him.

"You'll heal" she said, pushing his arm back to the bed "Back to swinging a sword in no time"

"The damage to your arm and ankle is quite extensive, but given time I think you have a good chance of recovering the use of both limbs. Particularly since you're not experiencing any numbness" said Wolkan, unwrapping the bandages on his upper arm to reveal another jagged slash wound

Tyrion said nothing as the Maester carried on his duties, with Arya sitting quietly beside him. The wolf pup had been eating some meat from a bowl in the corner of the room, but having finished its meal it scrambled onto the bed beside them.

"What are you going to call your new friend?" asked Arya, scratching the wolf behind the ears. The creature didn't seem overly interested in her attention and nudged his nose against Tyrion's right hand instead.

"He's not mine - I told Sansa one of you should have him"

"Tyrion" said Arya, leaning forward to look him in the eye "That is the most Lannister looking direwolf I've ever seen - he's meant for you"

"I'm not a Stark. Direwolves are the sigil of your house" he said, a touch of sadness entering his tone

"You're the lord of Winterfell and you're married to a Stark, which makes you family. Besides the wolf chose you"

"Why would a direwolf want anything to do with me?"

Arya sat back, tightening her grip on him "All of our wolves were like us, you know? They reflected our personalities and nature. Robb's wolf was the biggest and most disciplined - the leader of the pack. Sansa's was a perfect lady; well-mannered and graceful. Bran's wolf was adventurous and intelligent. Rickon's was wild and unpredictable. You've seen Ghost - he's a quiet outsider like Jon. Nymeria was rebellious and protective; she never did what I asked."

"I'm sorry you lost her" he said, wincing as Wolkan applied some kind of paste to the brand on his back "You should have this one"

She shook her head softly "Look at him Tyrion. He's brave, loyal and you can see how clever he is. Just like his master"

A lump formed in his throat at her words; how he wished that was true. The Maester wound more bandages around his shoulder securing a patch over the brand before moving from the bed.

"Is there anything I can do for you my lord?"

"No, thank you" said Tyrion, as Arya set some pillows behind him propping him up. The wolf had given up on trying to win his affection and settled against the side of his leg instead.

"You need only ask my lord" said the Maester, bowing his head "It is good to see you"

With Wolkan gone and Tyrion settled against the headboard, Arya dropped into the chair beside the bed - grey eyes studying him.

"It's just us now" she started "Are you really ok?"

"I'm fine"

"We missed you"

"I'm sorry" he said, fidgeting with the blanket

"It wasn't your choice"

"I know - but it caused you a lot of trouble"

Arya tilted her head to look at him "You saved all those women - guess you were right about that hidden path from Winterfell"

"I'm glad they were able to find it. The thought of those poor girls being sold as slaves…"

"Rose and all the other girls told us how brave you were. They said you stayed behind so they could escape"

"We were being followed" said Tyrion, dropping his gaze from Arya's stare "Those girls were innocent - I couldn't let them get captured again"

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you"

"There's nothing you could have done; I shouldn't have been taken in the first place"

The door creaked open and Sansa slipped into the room; a smile lighting up her face as she saw Tyrion awake.

"Hello" he said quietly, as she came to sit on the bed beside him

"How are you feeling?" she asked, taking hold of his right hand

"I'm fine"

"Maester Wolkan has just been to see him" added Arya

"He changed your bandages?" she asked, brushing a hand through his hair

Tyrion nodded, uncomfortable with the attention he was getting - particularly with Sansa and Arya both watching him.

"You look a bit pale, I'll send for some food" said Sansa

"It's alright" he said "I'm not hungry"

"You need to eat" she insisted, squeezing his hand

"I'll go get the food" offered Arya

The sisters went about discussing what food was best for him and Tyrion wanted nothing more than to disappear. It wasn't right; they shouldn't be fussing over him like this. Sansa was Queen - she had more important things to do.

Guilt stirred in his heart once more as Sansa's blue eyes gazed at him with such softness. He didn't belong here.

* * *

"Lady Arya" called the young voice

She turned in the corridor to see Nessa hurrying towards her. The tatty young girl stopped in front of her, worry etched over her face.

"How's Tyrion?" she asked, fiddling with her sleeves

Every day she would find her asking for an update on his condition. Arya wasn't entirely sure how much to tell her. She didn't want to lie but the truth was horrible. Ultimately, she'd decided to keep to basic truths. Word of what had happened to Tyrion was already spreading throughout the North, and Nessa would doubtless hear it one way or the other. The girl knew he was badly hurt and resting.

"I talked to him yesterday" she told the girl "he needs a lot of rest right now"

"Does he need anything?" Nessa asked, innocent eyes gazing up at her "I can help"

"Thank you - but not at the moment. The Queen is taking care of him"

Arya stifled a laugh at the look of horror that crossed Nessa's face "What's wrong?"

"The Queen is scary" she said, eyes darting around the corridor as if Sansa may suddenly appear at the mention of her title

"She can be" agreed Arya "but she loves Tyrion too. He's safe with us"

"Ok" said Nessa, shuffling on the spot

"When he's feeling better, I'm sure he'd love to see you"

"Really?"

"Of course, he just needs time to heal"

Nessa smiled up at her "Ok, I'll practice my reading – then when Tyrion's better I can show him"

"Good idea" said Arya, mussing the girls hair

* * *

It was five days since Tyrion's return when Arya went to see Grey Worm. Seasoned guards were left in charge of the rarely used dungeon, and from them Arya learned the Unsullied captain had made no attempts to escape; remaining silent in his cell. She'd asked Sansa to come with her, but her sister was reluctant to leave Tyrion alone for any length of time.

The dungeons in Winterfell weren't particularly large and Arya soon found herself outside the small cell occupied by the former slave. His wrists were chained and locked to the wall as were his feet, but there was just enough slack for him to lie down on the straw covered bed. He was sat on the edge of it when she got there, dark eyes turning to hers as she took in the blood stained rags wrapped around his right hand. The stumps of his two missing fingers were covered by the material, but if the maiming bothered Grey Worm he didn't show it.

"This cell is a lot nicer than where you were holding Tyrion in Kings Landing - and we're giving you food" she mused, recalling the squalid conditions she'd found him in

"You come kill me" he stated, turning to look at her

"No" said Arya, resting her hand on needle "There will be a trial first"

"What for?"

"You're accused of the attempted murder of the lord of Winterfell and his kidnapping"

"He not dead?" he asked, shaking his head "Would have been justice for my Queen"

"You're also accused in the kidnapping of young girls to be sold into slavery"

Grey Worm's eyes ignited at the accusation and he leapt to his feet, the chains holding him clanking and grinding against his rage.

"I did not!"

"Did you give Robin and Gawan money?"

"I paid them to give me the traitor" he said, nostrils flaring

"They used that money to set up their slave business"

"No…not true. Lannister is lying"

"So they never mentioned slavery to you?" she asked, pacing in front of the cell "Never asked you anything about it?"

Uncertainty flickered across his face "They ask about Lannister, about my past, how I met Queen"

"They used whatever you told them to start their own business as slavers"

"No!"

"You're as guilty as they are"

"I not…"

"Missandei would be ashamed of you"

Grey Worm lunged towards the cell door, the chains growing taunt as he raged "Not true. I hate slavers - I kill slavers. I serve the mother of Dragons; the breaker of chains"

Arya snorted "You didn't break those girls' chains - you put them there. Tyrion risked his life to help them escape"

The Unsullied captain had stopped struggling and stood in the centre of his cell, his muscles straining under his ragged clothes. Arya moved out of sight of the cell returning a moment later, a long piece of iron in her hand.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked, lifting the metal rod for him to see

It was straight apart from one end where a circle with a series of lines and curves within it stretched about three inches in width and height.

Grey Worm stared at her, not answering.

"After we left the Wolfswood some of our men searched the area and found this. If you look at the end, you can see a pattern. Can you see it?" she asked, pushing it towards him

"I see"

"This is a hot iron. You heat the end of it and then you press it against things to get that pattern"

"I know what hot iron is!" he said, baring his teeth

"Good. This is what your friends used to brand my brother" she said, her eyes narrowing "They would have heated this up and pressed it against the back of Tyrion's shoulder, leaving this pattern burnt into his skin. The pain would have been excruciating"

"He a traitor - I do not care what happened to traitor" said Grey Worm, but with less conviction than before

The hot iron had rattled him; it had rattled her too. Sansa had burst into tears after one of Cley's guards brought it before them the day before. Her sister had wanted to destroy it, but Arya convinced her it was evidence. She'd agreed in the end on the condition Tyrion was never to see it.

"After Tyrion freed the slaves he was recaptured. Apparently your friends Robin and Gawan were going to brand their new slaves before sending them to Essos - marking them as their property. When they escaped they used it on Tyrion instead" she said, watching Grey Worm flinch.

When Tyrion had first woken up he'd told Sansa that information in the midst of apologising for it happening in the first place. Her sister had told her as much when the hot iron was brought to them and Arya's rage at the monsters grew.

"No…that can't…" said Grey Worm, sagging in his restraints

"Forty women he saved from this" she said, turning the hot iron with distaste "some as young as four and ten. Only children really, who would have never seen their home or families again because of the money you gave Robin Flint and Gawan Glover"

"I no slaver" he said, sinking on to the edge of the bed "Can't be true"

"You saw the collar that was fastened around Tyrion's neck" she said, pulling out the cut piece of leather and holding it up "They melted the clasp shut so he couldn't remove it - we've had to cut it from him"

Grey Worm's eyes were haunted as he stared at the collar. Arya gave a signal to Alec who'd been stood at the other end of the corridor as they spoke; he approached in silence carrying a sack.

"In case you need more convincing" said Arya, nodding to Alec

He tipped the contents of the sack to the floor, spilling forty slave collars in front of Grey Worm.

"One from all of the girls that were saved from slavery by the man you tried to kill" said Arya, as Alec retreated

"I kill slavers" hissed Grey Worm "I would not help slavers - only wanted justice for Queen"

"And I want justice for my brother" said Arya, holding his gaze "You will die for what you did to Tyrion, but you can help bring Robin and Gawan to justice first. Tell me everything you know about them, every conversation you had with them. You claim to honour Daenerys fight against slavery, so tell me what I need and maybe you can retain some kind of honour"

The Unsullied leader stood from the bed and met Arya's gaze. His dark eyes were dangerous and full of hate, but there was something else there too.

"Missandei was sold as slave when she was young girl - I love her and she die at hand of Lannisters"

"Tyrion didn't kill her; she was his friend" she said firmly "but I am sorry she's dead"

"He betrayed our Queen"

"She went mad - and slaughtered thousands of innocents"

"I love them both. Missandei was best of me. Queen Daenerys freed me - gave this one life"

Arya was not unsympathetic to Grey Worm. The Unsullied training and mutilation he'd endured was horrendously cruel; she understood his devotion to his Queen however misguided.

"Sansa is my sister and Queen; Tyrion is my brother now" said Arya holding his gaze "I love them both and I'd do anything to protect them"

Silence crept on until Grey Worm nodded his head "For Missandei and for Queen Daenerys I will tell you everything - slavers must be stopped"

Arya nodded as well. Any scrap of information would prove useful. To defeat your enemy, you must know your enemy and Arya would learn everything she could about them; and then they would die.

* * *

Tyrion grimaced as Tom tilted his head to one side and carefully cut away the beginnings of his beard. The wound across his face needed to be kept clean and he would be going beardless until Sansa and Maester Wolkan decided it had healed enough to not risk any infection.

"It's only for a little while" said Sansa, ever present in the chair beside the bed "when your face has healed you can grow it back if you like"

Tyrion said nothing. Waking to find his face bare had been strange – he'd had a beard since he left Westeros. It helped to make the scar across his face less noticeable and without it he felt oddly naked. The fact his hair had also been sheared very short at the back and sides hadn't helped either, but he'd been told that was due to the filth he'd accumulated in the Wolfswood.

"Anything else little lord?" asked Tom, grinning at Tyrion as he brandished the knife "Could go shorter with your hair if you like the new style"

"That's quite alright, thank you" said Tyrion, eyeing the blade warily

"Thank you" said Sansa as the barber tidied up and left

He squirmed slightly against the pillows, hating how exposed he felt. The injuries to his upper body made it difficult to wear a shift or tunic so he was stuck wearing only his breeches. The lack of hair left him vulnerable - as if a shield had been taken from him, leaving his emotions difficult to hide.

"I like being able to see your face" she said, as if reading his mind

"Gods know why"

"Don't talk like that - I happen to think you're very handsome" said Sansa taking his hand

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. He had never been handsome, and he rather doubted the scars that covered him improved his appearance.

"You do" she insisted "when I was told I was marrying you in Kings Landing, Lady Margery thought you were rather good looking – especially with the scar"

"She was marrying Joffrey; even a disfigured dwarf is a marginal improvement over that beast of a boy"

The weight of the bed shifted and Sansa sat next to him, taking hold of his face, as he dropped his eyes from her smiling gaze

"You don't have to believe me, but it's true" she said "the cut across your face isn't too deep, and the gash in the back of your head is healing well too. When that heals a little more you can lie on your back rather than your side if you like"

Tyrion nodded, forcing himself to give Sansa a smile. She was being so nice to him and he really didn't deserve it.

* * *

The branches crunched under Bran as he made his way through the hills that ran North of the Wolfswood. Being the three-eyed raven was a heavy burden, but it did allow him to stand and walk as he saw the past, present and possibilities for the future. For days his mind had been North, searching for possibilities and truths hidden in both the past and the future. He'd seen Sansa's coronation and the way she ruled the North. He'd seen Tyrion when he arrived at Winterfell after leaving Kings Landing; filthy and in chains.

For all his wandering, what he saw now was new. A large, direwolf had just given birth to a litter of six pups and a pang of nostalgia swept through Bran Stark at the sight of the newborn pups. It was strange to see a direwolf this far South of the wall but the mother wolf was heading North, back towards the wall. He watched as the pups clumsily moved after their mother, though one was further behind than all the others. It stood out from its siblings with golden fur, but was small and scrawny - the runt of the litter. The three-eyed raven saw their journey North and with each passing day the runt of the litter fell further behind. The mother wolf began to lose interest in the little creature, pushing it away to allow her stronger children to feast on her kills first. It was almost a week later when the pack crossed a stream that the mother helped her pups to cross - except the smallest one. The little golden wolf was left alone as his family moved away, the mother wolf offering him only one final glance as she carried on with her stronger children.

The little direwolf whined and looked for a way to follow his family, but without the mothers help it had no chance of crossing the stream safely. Lying on the ground, the wolf pup cried and cried as Bran watched. The wind rustled around the pup some hours later and the little creature's ears pricked up. Turning away from the stream, the direwolf started to move South again.

Bran found himself thrown out of the vision and he returned to his chambers in Kings Landing. It didn't matter that his vision had been cut short - he knew where the wolf pup had gone next. Somehow the runt of the litter had survived and found Tyrion Lannister. For days he'd searched for where the direwolf could have come from and the Old Gods had finally allowed him a glimpse. At first he'd wondered if the direwolf was somehow connected to Tyrion's dead brother. The golden fur and green eyes were unusual in a direwolf and bore an uncanny resemblance to the typical Lannister look. That was not the case however - this direwolf had been shunned by his family and left behind. It had been led to Tyrion and Bran could only assume the creature had forged a bond with the lord of Winterfell as a kindred spirit.

"You look unusually happy" commented Davos, seated across from him

"Apologies lord Hand - I didn't realise you were there"

"Aye, figured as much. Seen anything good?"

"Perhaps. The direwolf that saved lord Tyrion is not his brother"

"Thank the gods for that. I'm not sure I could deal with dead relatives returning in animal form. Besides shouldn't it have been a lion if it was Jamie Lannister?" said Davos, tapping his shortened fingers against the arm of the chair

"I've never given it much thought"

"Well I have, ever since you mentioned your theory that the direwolf was Jamie Lannister. My sigil is an onion, every night I've been having weird dreams about an onion with my son's voice"

Bran smiled as the older man let out a relieved sigh, sinking against the chair. He knew his mind had been too far North for too long the past several days, leaving Ser Davos King in all but name. He was more than capable of ruling, but Bran realised an absentee King could be considered stressful for some Hands.

"Rest easy Ser Davos - the dead will not rise again"

"Aye, it's probably for the best" he agreed, sadness passing over his face "no matter how much we want them too"

The three-eyed raven knew it was impossible, but Bran Stark shared the onion Knight's wish. It had been so long since he saw his parents and his brothers. The memory of Hodor and Summer still cast a shadow over him from time to time. They'd died so he could become this; he would at least honour their memory with the powers that came with being the three-eyed raven.

"Where did the direwolf come from then?" asked Ser Davos, drawing Bran from his musings

"It was the runt of the litter - its family abandoned it and returned to the North. It was led to Tyrion and bonded with him"

"Good loyal creatures they are - clever too. Jon was dead but Ghost still knew friend from foe"

"I'm glad that one found Tyrion. They can help each other, and perhaps I can help you Ser Davos - I realise I've been away for a while"

"Good to hear, your Grace. You'll be pleased to know the realm is still standing despite my blundering over it"

"I'd expect nothing less" said Bran, mouth turning upwards at his hand

He'd never wanted to be King, but it was necessary. It was tempting to stay in his visions, watching the world through a thousand eyes and walking as he hadn't since childhood. Love was the death of duty, but dreams couldn't be far behind.

* * *

"Would you like anything to eat?"

"No, thank you"

"Are you warm enough?"

"Yes, thank you"

"Is there anything I can get you? I can read to you if you'd like"

"Thank you, but I'm fine"

Sansa sighed recalling the conversations she'd had with Tyrion over the past few days as she sank into the chair beside the fire. It had been a week since Tyrion's return and four days since he woke up. Within that time he'd hardly spoken, responding only when he was asked something. Even then his replies were polite and short. She wanted to make things better with Tyrion, but he was so distant from her. He asked for nothing and apologised every time he needed help. The worst was trying to feed him. The first time he'd been awake for food he'd insisted he could feed himself, but his hand had shook so badly half of the food had ended up over him.

"I'm sorry" he'd said, turning his head from her as she took the spoon from his hand and cleaned him up

"You're not well enough yet" she'd soothed "let me help you"

Tyrion had looked close to tears as she helped him eat his dinner, and she hated taking away his dignity but he could hardly sit up - there was no shame in letting his wife help. He hadn't protested since but every meal was a hardship, and the broken look in his eyes as she fed him was horrible to see. Changing the baggy breeches he was wearing for a better fitting but equally loose pair was also an ordeal, eclipsed only by helping him use the privy. He always thanked her for the help and did whatever she asked, but every time she could see another little piece of his battered self-confidence break. Sansa consoled herself with the thought it wouldn't always be like this and did her best to remain positive and cheerful around Tyrion, showing him affection whenever she could and hoping he would open up to her.

Arya regularly visited but after seeing how humiliated he was at meals, Sansa had quietly asked her sister to avoid coming to their chambers during those times. The hearth was burning brightly, warming the room as she glanced to the bed and her sleeping husband. Two days after he woke up she'd decided to start sleeping in the bed with him again, though in truth it was like he wasn't there. He barely moved or spoke, though she often found him shaking from nightmares during the night. When that happened she would wake him up, asking if he wanted to talk and offering to hold him - both of which he always refused.

His wolf pup was lying near his feet on the bed, occasionally raising his head to glance at his master. The little creature was clearly devoted to him, but Tyrion hardly spared him a glance - refusing to interact at all with the direwolf. Sansa was terrified she was losing Tyrion, but she had no idea how to help him. Most of this was her doing. She'd shown him little affection or attention before this; it was understandable he didn't trust her now she was. It hurt. She couldn't deny it hurt every time he flinched from her touch in the night and sat stiffly in her embrace when she tried to comfort him. Sansa could tell he was afraid of something, but she had no idea what - he was safe in Winterfell. Was he that afraid of her? Her stomach churned at the thought.

Tyrion had always been rather affectionate, even in Kings Landing. He'd always initiated the contact, whether it was taking her hand in his or rubbing her back when she had nightmares about Joffrey. It had brought her some comfort in that horrible place; it wasn't romantic but it was caring. Now she wanted to return the favour but Tyrion seemed to find no comfort with her. Turning her gaze back to the piles of correspondence before her, Sansa resolved to keep trying for as long as it took.

* * *

It had been a week since he first woke and Tyrion was sat up in bed, moonlight streaming through the windows of the room.

This was it; his best chance of leaving.

Sansa had asked him earlier if he would be alright on his own for a few hours. She'd told him some business had cropped up urgently and she would be with Maester Wolkan and Arya for some time. Tyrion had assured her it would be fine but the Queen's eyes had been filled with sadness as she kissed him goodnight and left the room. The room seemed colder without her or Arya there, despite the burning hearth in the corner. One or the other had been a constant presence since his return to Winterfell, but particularly Sansa. She had showered him with affection, telling him every day she loved him and fussing over him constantly.

His heart ached at the thought of not feeling her softness against him anymore - but this was for the best. He was a crippled dwarf; beaten and humiliated, he was wholly unfit to stay. Sansa had told him multiple times she didn't want him to leave, but it was pity talking. Eventually she would realise what a mistake she'd made and there was nothing left of Tyrion's heart to break when she did. The longer he stayed the harder it was to leave though. Sansa and Arya were too kind; too dutiful to send him away, so he would have to make the choice for them.

He'd struggled to sit up in the bed, but now he turned his focus to actually leaving it. His body trembled with the effort as he pushed his way out from under the warm blankets, sliding his feet onto the floor. Pain flared in his broken ankle at the pressure on it, but he grit his teeth as the world swayed around him.

Weak. He was too weak.

For the past week he'd needed help to do nearly everything as his battered body betrayed him. Sansa had helped to feed, clean and clothe him and his embarrassment grew every time she did. The Queen never complained - brushing off his apologies with a smile and a kiss. A wave of sadness swept through him at the thought of never feeling Sansa's warmth again, or the softness in her eyes when she spoke to him. His heart wanted to let Sansa close to him and give in to his own feelings for her, but it wasn't real. Sansa was wasted on a creature like him – her pity would run out and he'd be left with a broken heart once more. She was a Queen, her time should not be wasted looking after a crippled dwarf.

Getting out of bed had been a problem but finding clothes was a different problem entirely. He would keep the overly large breeches he was already wearing - changing into something else would be far too difficult. He lurched towards the drawers in search of a tunic. His body ached with every movement but he pushed onwards, staggering towards the furniture. Pulling it open he was surprised to find many of his tunics had been embroidered with golden lions, and he recognised Sansa's delicate needlework. Why would she waste her time and effort doing that for him? His fingers trembled as he traced one of the lions – it was beautiful, but he didn't deserve it. Tyrion didn't want to steal from the Starks, but he wouldn't get very far without some kind of clothing. Eventually he found a plain black tunic and eased it around him. The stitches across his chest and ribs protested the motion, and his damaged wrist ached horribly as he tried to force the limb through the sleeve. He put one boot on, realising getting another over his splinted ankle was impossible and he'd have to go without it. The wolf pup had jumped off the bed as he dressed, and padded around his feet whining softly at him.

"Stay" he said, turning away from the direwolf as he struggled towards the door

He'd only been out of bed for a short time and already his body was rebelling, sweat trickling down his back as he tried to ease the heavy wood open. Peering into the corridor, he was relieved to see no-one around. The hour was late as he staggered into the dimly lit hall, lurching towards the far wall and pulling himself along. The wolf was following him quietly, and Tyrion decided it wasn't worth the trouble of sending it back. If the creature was determined to follow him so be it; he didn't care anymore.

His body was on fire as he moved through Winterfell. Unused muscles trembled with the strain of moving his body. More than once he stumbled, catching himself at the last second. By the time he made it downstairs and the door to outside was in sight his head was pounding and his ankle was throbbing with each shuffling step.

Conflicting thoughts battled for dominance the closer he got to leaving.

_'You could stay'_

_'Go. You're only a burden'_

_'Sansa will miss you'_

_'No-one wants you'_

Tyrion was fortunate - he came across no guards or servants as he pushed the door open and the icy breeze of the North stole his breath. He battled on, forcing his shaking legs to carry him across the courtyard towards the gate. The snow was falling lightly and the blanket of it on the ground chilled his bandaged foot as he stumbled through it. He ground his teeth together as his body shook. Not much further and they would be free of him. The gate was unmanned, and Tyrion found it was open; allowing him to slip out of Winterfell. He took a few steps through the gate before he turned to look back at the castle he'd lived in for several months now.

This was it. He would go and Sansa would be free of him at last.

He turned his back on Winterfell, gazing out across the expanse of the North. This was for the best.

* * *

From her place on the ramparts Sansa watched the small figure staggering across the courtyard towards the gate that led out of Winterfell – his wolf pup at his heels. Every fibre of her being screamed at her to rush to Tyrion and pull him back inside, but Bran's message kept her tethered to the spot.

It has to be his choice.

Her brother had offered her no other words or guidance - his message was abstract, but Sansa had understood. It had been a week since Tyrion woke up and in that time he'd withdrawn further than ever, his eyes as haunted as his dreams. No matter how much she told Tyrion she loved him, told him this was home; it was obvious he didn't believe her words. He hadn't mentioned leaving for a few days but Sansa knew it wasn't because he'd given up the idea.

Bran's message had arrived this morning, and those few words asked Sansa to do the impossible; to let her husband go.

His choice. She should not decide for Tyrion. Giving up control was the hardest thing she'd ever done, but a small part of her understood. Tyrion wasn't her prisoner; if he wanted to leave she had no right to keep him here against his will - even if it broke her heart. Sansa had arranged for Tyrion to be left alone, hoping desperately she was wrong and he'd stay in bed. Arya also knew what she was doing. Her sister had reluctantly agreed to her plan and made sure all the guards and servants would not be around to stop him if he chose to leave.

_'Don't go'_ she begged, watching him struggle_ 'please don't leave me'_

Silent tears slid down her face as Tyrion lurched through the gate and out of the castle. It hadn't been enough – how could it? Months of manipulating and mistreating him could not be fixed with a week of love and care. Her pursuit of power and control had cost her the one person she couldn't bear to lose. Sansa's body shook as she wrapped her arms around herself. She would gladly give up her crown to keep Tyrion; to have the chance to show him how much she loved him.

It was too late - he wanted to leave. It would be his choice, but Sansa wouldn't let him die either. She would send someone to bring him inside. He could have his old room back and when he was strong enough she would arrange for him to go wherever he wanted; but she couldn't watch him die. Letting Tyrion go would kill what remained of her heart, but he wasn't her hostage. When they married in Kings Landing he cloaked her in his family's colours and brought her under his protection; he'd promised to never hurt her and Tyrion had kept his word. Sansa hadn't protected him though – she'd used him, hurt him and let others mock him.

_'I'm so sorry my love'_ she thought _'this is my fault'_

She should send someone to bring him in – snowflakes were fluttering around him and the night was growing colder. Sansa turned to go inside and send a guard out when she cast one last look at her husband. Tyrion had moved only a few feet beyond the gate and stood rooted to the spot, glancing back towards the castle. Sansa's body seemed to freeze as she watched him.

_'Come back'_ she begged _'Please come back'_

Time dragged on and it became clear Tyrion was neither moving forwards nor coming back. Bran's words echoed through her mind like a horrible rhyme, but she had to do something. It would be his choice, but she could at least remind him of the other option. The courtyard was dark and the snowfall growing heavier as she hurried down to ground level, slowing her pace as the gate came into view. He still hadn't moved, but he was looking out across the North and his small body appeared to be shaking.

Sansa approached slowly as one would a startled animal. The direwolf sensed her first as she moved to Tyrion's side, letting out a small whine and nudging his master's hand. Now she was closer, Sansa could see how pale Tyrion was and his whole body shook as he stared out into the distance. He was in absolutely no condition to be out of bed, but force of will had brought him this far. Sansa removed her grey cloak with direwolves stitched delicately into the fabric and crouched down beside Tyrion.

"It's rather cold out here" she said

"I...should leave" he said, voice breaking

Sansa said nothing, but loosely held her cloak up behind Tyrion. The urge to wrap her arms around him was overwhelming, but this had to be his choice. He wasn't her hostage. He wasn't her prisoner.

"I should go..." he said, his body trembling

Still she remained silent, her cloak and arms hovering just behind him.

A sob broke from his throat "I should go...but I don't want to"

"No-one wants you to go" she said softly, lowering her cloak so it just brushed against his shoulders.

"Shouldn't stay..." he said, eyes still staring into the distance "but I...don't want to be alone anymore"

Tyrion's face crumpled as suppressed sobs wracked his body and Sansa inched closer to him.

"You don't ever have to be alone"

They stayed like that for a few minutes, with Tyrion shaking like a leaf as she stood next to him, her cloak brushing against his back. His choice. It had to be his choice. Sansa steeled herself to ask the question she dreaded the answer to.

"Can I take you home?"

The world seemed to stop until Tyrion's head nodded forwards, and tears slid down his face. Sansa's restraint dissolved in an instant and she quickly pulled Tyrion close, warmth spreading through her as he leaned into her touch.

"Want to stay…please…" he whispered, dropping his head onto her shoulder as she wrapped her Stark cloak around him "…don't want to be alone"

She'd nearly lost him; it had been too close - but he wanted to stay. That's all that mattered. Sansa pushed back from him gently, keeping a firm grip on his shoulders as she crouched in front of him. His eyes were haunted and the fear of rejection she saw in them tore at her heart.

She moved her hands to his face, gently tilting his head to look at her.

"With this kiss I pledge my love" she said

Sansa leaned forwards pressing her mouth against his, hoping the kiss would convey what she couldn't put into words - I love you, I'll protect you; this is home. She pulled back a moment later, gazing into his lost green eyes.

"I don't deserve your love" he whispered

Sansa shook her head, smiling at her husband "My love is yours - now and forever"

Her words broke whatever control Tyrion had left over his emotions and he fell sobbing against her, wrapping his good arm around her as she eagerly pulled him close.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled, as she tried to soothe him. His small body was shaking against her and he was far too cold - they had to go back inside.

Sansa kissed the top of his head, before she pulled back and straightened up, offering Tyrion her hand. A moment passed before she felt his shaky hand close around hers and they turned back towards the castle. The direwolf trotted along at Tyrion's left side as she supported his weight on the right.

He said nothing as they made their way slowly across the courtyard; both of them were covered in fresh snow but Tyrion more so. Whatever willpower had brought him out of bed, evaporated as they made their way back inside. His chest was wheezing and he could hardly stand up, Sansa was half carrying him by the time they shut the castle door behind them. It was tempting to take Tyrion straight to Maester Wolkan; he was far too weak to have left the bed and she worried how much the effort had hurt him. At the very least his broken ankle must be agony. Yet when she looked at the tears still falling down his face and the sobs he was trying to stifle, Sansa decided seeing the Maester could wait until the morning. She would take care of him, as she always would now. Tomorrow Wolkan could assess the damage, but tonight was for them.

"I love you" she said, kissing his tear stained face as she crouched down to take more of his weight as they tried to climb up the stairs "let me help"

It was slow going and by the time they made it upstairs Tyrion could hardly stand up, fortunately their chambers weren't too far down the corridor. Finally they staggered into the room, to find the hearth burning brightly and dry clothes left out for them both. Courtesy of Arya – no doubt. The direwolf pup shot past them both and curled up in front of the hearth.

Tyrion didn't resist as she helped him onto the bed and undressed him. His clothes were soaking from the snow and she realised he'd only been wearing one boot – the splint and bandages around his ankle were a soggy mess.

"Sorry" he said, crying quietly as she eased the tunic off over his heavily bandaged arm "...shouldn't have tried to leave"

"It's ok" she soothed, running a hand through his damp hair "You chose to stay – that's all that matters"

Sansa picked up the lion blanket she'd made for him, wrapping it around his upper body as she helped him sit against the headboard.

"You worked so hard on this…it's lovely…" he said, tracing the lions as she helped him into a spare pair of baggy breeches

Her mouth turned upwards at his praise. She'd covered him with the blanket all week, but he hardly seemed to notice. She'd understood why; it was clear his mind was elsewhere.

"How do you know it was me and not Arya?" she asked, trying to clean some of the sludge from his bandaged ankle.

"I'd know your needlework anywhere"

Warmth spread through her at his words, and Sansa smiled at him. There was nothing she could do for his injuries - Wolkan would have to change the dressings tomorrow, but his face was pale and tears were still escaping from his eyes despite his best efforts. Sansa hurried behind her changing screen, quickly slipping into her nightshift and returning to the bed. Tyrion was still sitting as she'd left him, wearing his clean breeches and nothing else. Sansa slid into the bed beside him, pulling the furs and blankets over them.

"You're cold, my love" she said, brushing a hand over his forehead "can I hold you?"

Tyrion nodded, leaning into her as she tried to find the best way to hold him without causing further injury. In the end Sansa was lying with her upper body propped up against the pillows, and her husband lying mostly on top of her as she rubbed his back. His head was lying against her chest when his quiet crying turned to heart-breaking sobs.

"I'm so sorry" he said, burying his head in her shoulder "they broke me"

"Shh, you're ok" she said "I'm here for you. You're so strong – they hurt you, but they didn't break you. I promise, you'll be ok"

"They did...awful things…they enjoyed it"

Sansa tightened her grip, trying to console Tyrion as he cried against her. Exhaustion overwhelmed him eventually, and he grew calmer in her arms.

So close to losing him - Sansa let her own tears fall as Tyrion lay fast asleep against her.

"Thank you" she whispered, brushing a hand through his hair "You've given me another chance, and this time I will love you like I should have before"


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Sansa's eyes fluttered open, a soft yawn escaping her as she gazed sleepily around the room. The first thing she noticed was the mess of golden curls tickling her face and she glanced down to find Tyrion sleeping soundly on top of her, his good hand wound tightly into her nightshift. Some of the tension eased out of her as she watched his sleeping face. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. Despite his decision to stay, a lingering fear had gripped her that she would wake to find her husband gone, and Sansa had started the night determined to stay awake. At some point she'd lost that battle, but finding her husband lying safely in her arms vanquished at least some of the fear. Maester Wolkan needed to check him over, but she was reluctant to wake Tyrion when he was cuddled against her so sweetly.

"I love you" she whispered, surprised how easily the words came to her

For a long time she hadn't imagined herself capable of loving again. She'd chosen Tyrion as her husband because she trusted him and cared a great deal for him; he was her closest friend. Sansa couldn't pinpoint when her feelings turned to love but when Arya had called her out on her treatment of Tyrion and threatened to take him from her, the words had fell from her lips easily. She loved him and Sansa would spend the rest of her life making sure he knew, even if he didn't return her love. Her treatment of him had been awful and she was fortunate he'd seemingly forgiven her so easily, but that didn't mean he would open up to her. That night when they'd bonded over two weeks ago had given her a glimpse of what their relationship could be like and she was determined to make that a reality.

_'You've lost your chance - he'll never trust you like that again'_ taunted her deepest fears

There was a lot that needed to be fixed, and she was well aware Tyrion might never open up to her again. She would keep trying to break through the walls that surrounded him, like he'd kept trying to do for her in Kings Landing. It didn't matter that her husband had never professed his love for her; his every action showed his care towards her. Above all else Tyrion had tried to protect and honour her, he was the person she could rely on most in the world. Now it was her turn to protect and care for him.

Sansa decided staying in bed and holding Tyrion a little longer wouldn't hurt and she began her own examination of his injuries, easing the blankets off them both to get a better view. The wound in the back of his head had healed fairly well and his hair would soon obscure it from view. While the cut across his face was still a little raw looking, it had lost some of its redness. Sansa brushed a hand over Tyrion's forehead, her brow furrowing at the heat that met her hand. He was a little too warm for her liking but the room was warm and they'd spent the night lying together under heaps of blankets. Patches of blood stained the bandages around his torso, indicating at least a few stitches had pulled open with his movements the night before.

She was drawn from her evaluation by green eyes blinking up at her warily.

"Good morning" she said, smiling at her husband

"Hello" he said quietly

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay" he said, dropping his gaze

Tyrion fidgeted in her arms, glancing at her from the corner of his eye - as if he expected her to suddenly object to his position.

"Relax" she told him "I've got you"

"Sansa, I'm sorry - I shouldn't have tried to leave" he said, his small body tense against her "I caused you a lot of trouble"

"You're no trouble" she said, rubbing his back "I'm going to take care of you. All you need to do is rest and heal"

"You're a Queen - you have much more important things to do" he said, his gaze moving to hers "I don't want to be a burden to you"

Sansa brushed a hand through his hair, considering her response. Tyrion had chosen to stay and clung to her willingly last night, yet his decision hadn't erased his doubts or fears. Hesitation was clear in his eyes, despite her efforts to soothe him. It was ok; she could work with hesitant. Last night had been a good start but they had a lot to work through. Just because he chose to stay didn't erase or excuse her horrid treatment of him. There was much she needed to apologise for, and she had no idea how, but for now she would do what she could to soothe his insecurities.

"You're my priority and looking after you will never be a burden to me" she said leaning forwards to kiss his forehead "Let me help you, my love"

Tyrion's eyes brightened for a moment, before his face turned sad "I'm sorry. Accepting help…doesn't come easily to me"

"Well you're mine to care for, so you'll have to get used to it I'm afraid" she said with a smile, tilting his head back to look at her

A weak smile crossed his face and he didn't resist as she pulled him closer. Caring for him the past week had been easy in the sense that he asked for nothing – every bit of help she gave him was met with sincere but unnecessary gratitude. Her mother had once told her than men were needier than children when ill or injured, yet Tyrion seemed to be the exception. He pulled away every time she tried to tend to him; as though he'd never been cared for before.

_'Stupid Sansa'_ she thought _'You've met his family. Do you think his father or sister ever showed him any love or care?'_

Was that why he always looked so uncomfortable with her help? Sansa stroked a hand through his curly hair as he lay quietly against her - before she left Winterfell Sansa had known nothing but unconditional love and care from her family. Kings Landing had given her a taste of what it was like to not have that, and a shudder crept down her spine at the memory. It was hard to imagine growing up in a family without that support, but that was most likely what her husband had experienced. That would have to change; he had a new family now and she would do what she could to give him the love and care he'd missed out on.

Tyrion shivered slightly in her arms despite the warmth coming from him, and Sansa's stomach twisted. He was getting sick. She'd helped her mother take care of her siblings often enough to know the signs, and her husband seemed rather lethargic as he lay against her.

"Are you cold?" she asked, rubbing her hand over his back

He considered for a moment, and Sansa suspected he was preparing another variation of 'I'm fine'.

"A little" he admitted, confirming her suspicions

Sansa was about to extract herself from the bed and summon the Maester when a knock sounded on the door.

"Who's there?" she called, closing her arms protectively around Tyrion

"Maester Wolkan, your Grace. Lady Arya thought you may have need of me"

"Come in"

Sansa sagged back against the pillows - of course her sister had spoken to Wolkan. Arya had known they'd been outside last night; the hearth was burning when they'd returned to their room and fresh clothes were left out for them. As thoughtful as her sister could be, Sansa couldn't help but find her manner of help somewhat creepy - as if an unseen ghost was stalking Winterfell. The Queen was grateful for it though; it had saved her sending word to Wolkan and allowed her to stay with Tyrion.

"Your Grace, my lord" the old man greeted, approaching the bedside "Would it be alright if I check you over lord Tyrion?"

"I think that's a good idea" said Sansa as Tyrion nodded against her

The old Maester showed no surprise at the state of Tyrion and made no comment on the soggy mess of bandages holding his ankle in place - confirming that Arya had likely warned him in advance. Her husband made no protest as they turned him over and settled him upright between Sansa's legs, his head flopping weakly back against her shoulder.

"Your ankle is rather swollen, my lord" he said, having removed the messy dressings to reveal the fading bruises and puffed up skin surrounding the limb "I think you'll need to keep it elevated for a time"

Sansa grimaced at the sight; how on Earth had he managed to walk on that? Her husband said nothing as she held him against her, his feverish skin warming her through her nightshift. He was definitely getting sick - that would explain why the lack of guards hadn't bothered him last night. She'd half expected him to realise something was amiss when he left unimpeded through an open gate, but her usually sharp husband hadn't seemed to notice the emptiness of the castle.

Tyrion tensed in her arms and she focused her wandering mind on the present. Maester Wolkan was in the process of securing a new splint around the broken ankle, tightening it against the broken bones.

"Apologise, my lord - I'm afraid this will hurt" he said, shooting a sympathetic look at Tyrion "the break was rather awkward, from what I can tell the ankle bone was snapped and there's likely been more internal damage. It will be a while until you can walk on it"

Wolkan said it as though it was a passing comment, but Sansa picked up the message; he has to stay in bed. When the Maester had finished with Tyrion's ankle the bandages and splint seemed heavier and more padded than before, and she bit her lip wondering if last night's excursion had caused further damage to the limb. Wolkan continued examining him and Tyrion remained quiet throughout the process, his eyes staring vacantly at the bed. His body was here, but his mind was far away. Sansa would give a lot to know what he was thinking; she'd do whatever she could to make sure thoughts of leaving never again crossed his mind.

"Several stitches have pulled, I'll have to redo them unfortunately" said Wolkan, moving to gather his supplies.

As the Maester tended to his injuries Tyrion lolled quietly against her. His decision to stay seemed to have eased a little of the tension that had hung over him the past week, but getting him to fully accept his place in their family would take time.

"You're rather warm my lord" noted Wolkan, furrowing his brow as he wrapped new bandages around Tyrion's chest

"He felt cold before" said Sansa "Do you still feel cold Tyrion?"

"Yes" came the weak reply a moment later

Sansa and Wolkan shared a look, before the Maester moved to check Tyrion. Her husband shuffled half-heartedly in her arms but he seemed to have no strength as the old man examined him.

"I feared you would become sick my lord, though after a week I'd begun to hope you'd avoided it" said Wolkan "Apparently not"

"I'm sorry Sansa" he whispered, screwing his eyes shut

"It's not your fault" she said, leaning her cheek against his head "You were outside in the snow when Arya found you"

Wolkan caught Sansa's eye, asking a silent question. She tightened her grip on her husband while nodding her assent.

The old Maester softened his voice as he spoke to Tyrion "My lord, it would be helpful to know what conditions you were kept in so that we know how to help you. Were you fed at all?"

A moment passed before Tyrion sagged against her, his voice low "Only the first day - just some water after that"

Sansa's stomach rolled; they'd starved him.

"Where did they keep you my lord? How warm was it?" asked Wolkan

"The stables or outside. It was so cold…"

Her husband's voice trailed off as he spoke and Sansa shook her head at the Maester; no more questions for now. Anger flooded her at what she'd heard - no wonder he seemed so weak in her arms. It was clear to her Tyrion wasn't ready to talk about it, but it was good they at least knew the conditions he'd been kept in. Sansa leaned forwards kissing the top of his head.

"Rest Tyrion - you'll be ok, I promise"

* * *

When Arya made her way to visit Sansa and Tyrion it was nearly midday. In truth she'd wanted to see them first thing this morning, but she'd restrained herself to midday. Last night had been difficult. From the shadows she'd seen Tyrion leave his room in Winterfell, following at a distance until he was outside. She'd watched Sansa go to him when he was past the gate and she'd lingered long enough to see her brother make his choice, before she slipped back to her own chambers. Sansa's decision to let Tyrion choose had been wise, but Arya had been reluctant to agree all the same. All her brothers were gone apart from him. She might never see Jon again, and Bran was so different now; the thought of Tyrion leaving too had been difficult to accept.

Arya had set the hearth burning warmly in their room and left out clothes for them last night, reluctantly giving them space. This morning she'd spoken to the Maester, explaining the situation so he was prepared and imploring him to be gentle with Tyrion. The old man had quickly understood, promising he would call upon them immediately and tend to her brother. That had been a few hours ago and Arya was more impatient than ever to check on her family. As was her custom she strolled into Sansa's chambers as if they were her own, eyes immediately landing on Sansa and Tyrion.

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" said Sansa, rolling her eyes as Arya came to sit in the chair beside the bed

"I've heard of it, I just don't care for it" she said "besides I came to see my brother – not you"

Tyrion looked a rather sorry sight as he lay propped up against the pillows. A thick black blanket with lions embroidered all over it covered him, and Arya could see his heavily bandaged ankle was elevated by a couple of cushions. Fresh white bandages covered his middle and a sling now wound its way around his mangled arm securing it against his chest. Arya had asked the Maester to not mention Tyrion's late night walk, but she stifled a laugh at his subtle message; no more moving. Sansa was wearing a simple gown as she sat on the bed to Tyrion's left, adjusting the blankets over him.

"Hello Arya" he said, tilting his head to look at her

"How are you feeling? I guess Wolkan's been to see you"

Tyrion glanced at the sling with a grimace "Yes, he thought it best I had no temptation to use this arm"

"It's a good thing" said Sansa "he said you can lie on your back now if your shoulder isn't too sore"

"I suppose" he said

There was something off in Tyrion's face and it took her a moment to place it; but Sansa's worried glances at her husband confirmed it.

"Are you sick?" she asked, noticing the redness of his face and light shivers he was trying to hide

"I don't think so..." started Tyrion

"Yes" said Sansa "he is getting sick"

"I'm sorry" mumbled Tyrion, dropping his gaze to the blanket

"Don't apologise – it's not your fault" said Sansa, brushing a hand over his forehead

Arya bit her lip. The closer she looked, Tyrion didn't look at all well and in his weakened state a sickness was the last thing he needed.

"Well you can't get out of bed anyway so I guess now's the best time to get sick" said Arya, throwing her feet onto the bed and reclining in the chair. Their mother would be proud of the disapproving glare Sansa shot her at the action.

"You'll be back to full health in no time" said Sansa, blue eyes watching him worriedly despite the smile she painted on her face "I'll look after you"

Tyrion seemed to shrink into the pillows at her declaration and sympathy wound through Arya. She hated feeling helpless and her brother was no doubt experiencing the same feeling. There was nothing she could do to fix it though; to recover properly he would need their help. Part of Arya could see a small bright side to this. Caring for her family had always brought out the best in Sansa; even in childhood she'd constantly copied their mother and helped nurse them all through sickness. Watching her now, Arya could see her older sister slipping into the familiar role of caretaker. On some level she suspected her sister liked to be needed, and Tyrion did need her; however much he pretended otherwise. At the very least his period of recovery would give them a chance to get to know each other again. They'd both been hiding for too long. That wasn't to say her sister could monopolise him however.

"So Sansa, why don't you go do your Queenly business and let me spend time with Tyrion"

Her sister's nostrils flared "Excuse me?"

Arya tilted her head hoping to convey her message "I want to talk sword fighting with my brother – you wouldn't be interested"

Arya did want to spend time with Tyrion, but a message had arrived from Deepwood Motte this morning and her sister needed to deal with. They'd both agreed to not mention the hunt for Gawan and Robin in front of Tyrion, and so far he hadn't asked either of them about it – nor had he enquired about Grey Worm. She hoped Sansa would take the hint and leave; she would watch Tyrion until her sister returned. Sansa's blue eyes narrowed, asking a silent question. Arya subtly nodded her head and the Queen's shoulder's fell.

"Will you be ok for a little while?" asked Sansa, turning her attention to Tyrion

"Neither of you need to watch me" he said, fiddling with the edge of the blanket "I promise I won't leave again – not unless you want me to"

"I will never want you to leave" said Sansa, kissing his cheek before sliding off the bed

Arya hadn't planned on mentioning last night to Tyrion assuming he wouldn't want to talk about it, but she was glad he'd brought it up.

"You're part of our pack" said Arya, grinning at him "the lone wolf dies but the pack survives"

"I'm not a wolf" he said, a hint of bitterness colouring his tone

Arya and Sansa exchanged glances.

"I think there's room in our pack for a lion, don't you think Sansa?" said Arya as her sister joined her at the side of the bed

"Hmm, I think so – he'd have to be small though"

"Agreed, you can't trust the big ones"

"He'd need to be clever"

"and fierce"

"I certainly think there's a place in our pack for a brave little lion" said Sansa, smiling warmly at her husband

Tyrion had dropped his head away from them as they spoke, and Arya reached forward to grab his right hand.

"What do you think big brother; will you join our pack?"

His green eyes were damp and shining as he turned to look at them, a tentative smile on his face "I think...I'd like that"

* * *

Sansa's eyes narrowed at the short message from Deepwood Motte:

_I will not tolerate these baseless accusations against my son. Until you withdraw these filthy lies and issue a full apology you will receive no support from House Glover._

_Lord Robett Glover_

"Not good news, your Grace?" asked Maester Wolkan, as Sansa dropped the letter onto the table.

Arya had hinted there was urgent business to deal with and as much as she hated to leave Tyrion for any length of time, this was certainly urgent. She'd gone straight from her chambers to the Maester's room, assuming correctly he would know what Arya had referred to. Wordlessly the old man had passed her the sealed message bearing the armoured fist sigil of house Glover.

"Lord Glover has refused to stand by the crown. He denies his son's crimes" she said, voice icy

"Your Grace, it's more than likely he isn't aware of them. Gawan was at Winterfell for many weeks and we saw nothing to suggest he was involved in the slave trade or capable of the cruelty he inflicted on lord Tyrion. Convincing lord Glover of what his only son and heir truly is will be difficult"

Sansa didn't need the reminder of her inability to see Gawan for the monster he is. The mention of his name brought up the image of the mangled rabbit he'd presented to her when they went riding. There was truth in the Maester's words though; no father would like to think his son capable of what Gawan had done.

"What would you have me do? Gawan and Robin cannot be allowed to go free"

"Certainly not, but we need more evidence against them"

"We have the slave collars and…the hot iron"

Wolkan nodded "They provide evidence that a slave trade was being run in the Wolfswood and someone badly hurt lord Tyrion there, but not evidence of who was running it"

"We need witnesses, you mean"

"Yes, particularly given Robin and Gawan's high positions in the North. We are accusing the lord of one major house and the heir to another of treason amongst other serious charges"

Sansa's jaw clenched "They aren't accusations - it's the truth"

Wolkan held his hands up in a placating gesture "Of course. We know that, but we need to make sure the case against Gawan and Robin is full proof - there can be no doubt of their guilt"

"Arya says Grey Worm has told her everything he knows about Robin and Gawan"

"Yes, he met them face to face three times. The final time he paid them huge amounts of gold for their promise of delivering lord Tyrion to him, which they fulfilled a week later"

"We could use Grey Worm as a witness against them - and Rose. She said she caught glimpses of them through the gap in the barn and heard their names"

"Both would be useful witnesses, but their low social standing may not be enough to convince the highborn lords. The unsullied are hated in the North and the free folk are only barely tolerated. Lord Tyrion saw everything and is well respected by many lords - his testimony would be better accepted"

Sansa twisted her hands in her lap. She knew Tyrion was their best witness, but she didn't want to push him for details of what he'd endured either. There would have to be a trial for Robin and Gawan; she could not kill them as she did Ramsay. The rest of the North would need to see justice was carried properly, though that didn't mean she intended for them to die quickly. They would be found guilty and then they would suffer.

"We will not answer lord Glover now. When we find his son, we will summon him to Winterfell and deal with him then" she decided

"Finding Gawan and Robin is the priority" agreed Wolkan, shuffling through the correspondence "No-one has seen or heard of them since they fled the Wolfswood, though a few houses have responded with full support in hunting them"

"Only a few?" she said, straightening her back. The ravens had gone out over a week ago; nearly all of the houses should have responded and answered her call to bring them to the justice.

The Maester shifted uncomfortably, his heavy chain clinking as he sat across from her "Lady Tallhart and Lord Cerwyn have offered their full support as you already know, and both have their men searching for Robin and Gawan. Lord Hornwood has also pledged his support and sent men out to search for them. Lord Manderly has yet to respond"

"Are you telling me the rest of the North is turning its back on the lord of Winterfell?" she asked, clenching her fists

Wolkan wouldn't meet her eyes "Not exactly your Grace, several minor houses have promised their support to lord Tyrion - but not to you"

Sansa's blood ran cold as the old man warily pushed a few letters towards her.

When I asked the Queen in the North for help – she didn't answer the call. When I petitioned at her court she refused to see me repeatedly. The North remembers and my house will not aid the Queen who ignored her people. However, in desperation I asked the lord of Winterfell for help and he responded immediately even though it went beyond his duty as lord. As I said - the North remembers and my house will stand by lord Tyrion Lannister. My men will be sent to hunt for the traitors and get justice for the lord of Winterfell.

The letters they'd sent out hadn't given details of the charges or mentioned Tyrion at all, but word of what had happened in the Wolfswood had spread rapidly throughout the North and it was becoming common knowledge what Robin and Gawan were accused of. Sansa's heart twisted reading through several letters from minor lords and ladies. The words were different but the message was the same. As Queen she'd let them down and lost their respect, too involved she was in the high level politics that she forgot the small folk and minor houses. Sansa had felt the weight of the crown on more than one occasion, her workload was punishing; yet Tyrion had quietly been helping her. Taking care of the minor issues as well as doing his duties as lord of Winterfell - unknowingly gaining their respect.

In Kings landing Sansa had learnt the importance of appeasing the major houses and building alliances with them; it was how the game was played. The North was different. Respect was earned and the smallfolk weren't to be used or forgotten. As one letter put it she'd ruled the North like a Southern Queen, while her husband had acted like a true Northerner – taking care of the small folk first.

"I've made a mess of things, haven't I?" said Sansa, staring at the letters spread before them

"I wouldn't say that, your Grace" reasoned Wolkan "The North is in the very early stages of independence and hasn't had a monarch in many years. Growing pains are to be expected, and you are still new to ruling - no Queen gets it right all the time"

The Maester meant well but Sansa's analytical mind was already connecting the dots. These houses were helping her because of their respect for Tyrion not for her. If she hadn't brought Tyrion North and needed to call her banners, how many would answer the call? Would she have alienated her banner men completely?

_'The only way to keep the small folk loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy'_ hissed Cersei's venomous voice

If not for her husband her crown could be in jeopardy and by extension the stability of the North. Remorse wormed through her; her people had trusted her and she'd let them down. She'd never wanted to rule by fear or become Cersei Lannister. Yet she'd failed on every count – the small folk disliked her, her own household feared her and she'd horribly mistreated Tyrion. That needed to change; her parents would be ashamed of her.

"Thank you for your support Maester – but I've not been a very good Queen so far. That will have to change from now on"

"As you say, your Grace"

"If you could keep checking the ravens for news on Robin and Gawan, I'll ask Arya to continue compiling evidence and work on tracking them down. I will do as much as I can, but Tyrion is my priority – my place is with him"

The Maester bowed his head "Of course, your Grace. It is clear an illness is taking hold of him"

Sansa had just stood to leave when the door creaked open and a young voice called out "Maester Wolkan have you been to see Tyrion y-"

Brown eyes locked onto Sansa before the young girl pedalled backwards in fear "Queen Sansa...I'm sorry...I"

"It's alright" said Sansa, her stomach dropping at the wide eyed fear in the girls face "You can come in"

Maester Wolkan moved to Sansa's side, smiling at the child "It's quite alright Nessa"

Sansa crouched down until she was looking the tatty headed girl in the eyes "Hello Nessa"

"Your Grace" she said, attempting a clumsy curtsy

"You're my husband's squire aren't you?"

The girl nodded mutely, glancing warily between them both. Sansa's heart ached; she'd always loved children yet the crown on her head had turned her into a monster to be feared.

"What can I do for you Nessa?" asked Wolkan

Sansa tried to smile reassuringly, but the girl looked ready to bolt. Her eyes settled on Maester Wolkan before her words tumbled out "Lady Arya said Tyrion still isn't well but Mother said we could still do something nice for him so we made him this bread cake he likes when he comes to our house"

Nessa thrust the small package out in front of her like a shield "I was going to ask if Maester Wolkan would give it to him. I looked for lady Arya but couldn't find her"

How did she not know Tyrion visited this girl's family? The girl clearly cared a great deal for him, yet Sansa barely knew her name. There was so much she'd been blind to.

"Are you the Nessa who figured out the letter?" she asked

"Y-yes, your Grace"

"I never got the chance to thank you – it really helped us"

Nessa's nervous fidgeting had lessened somewhat as she spoke, and her dark eyes flickered hopefully to Sansa.

"Is he ok?" she asked quietly

"He's not very well, but he'll be ok with lots of rest" said Sansa "Would you like to come with me and give him your bread cake?"

The girl's eyes lit up but her face soon furrowed as if trying to decide if it was a trick "I don't want to bother him"

Sansa straightened up "I think he won't mind a quick visit"

Nessa nodded tentatively and followed Sansa as they made their way from Wolkan's room.

"Nessa, are you afraid of me?" asked Sansa as they walked, watching the girl carefully for her response "You don't have to be - I won't hurt you"

The girl seemed to consider it before shaking her head "No. I told Tyrion you were scary once but he laughed and said you were just pretending so you'd scare the bad people. He said you were really kind and generous"

"Do you believe him?" asked Sansa, throat constricting

Nessa nodded eagerly "Tyrion knows things. He's really clever, but he says he's not as clever as he thought he was"

_'I used to think you were the cleverest man alive'_

Recalling her past words now, she cringed. Believing Cersei had been naïve, but could she blame him for hoping his family had a tiny shred of honour? Sansa knew Tyrion prided himself on his wits and intelligence; saying that to him had been rather cold-hearted. Had her words bothered him? At the time she hadn't thought much of it – Tyrion was used to biting comments. Now, she wondered if her words had hurt him more than he'd let on.

_'Just one more thing to make up for'_ she thought, heading towards their chambers

"Wait here a moment and I'll see if he's awake" said Sansa, pausing outside their door

Nessa nodded but continued to fidget on the spot. For all she'd tried to put the girl at ease, there was still some fear there. Sansa slipped into the room, seeing Arya flipping a knife in her hands as she chatted to Tyrion.

"I always wanted to fight like a Westerosi Knight when I was younger but water dancing suits me a lot better" said Arya, twirling the blade

"I should thank you. I used your water dancing to kill one of their men" said Tyrion, a hint of regret in his tone "I tried to copy the way you slipped past my guard when we sparred, though it was rather clumsy"

Arya smiled "Good. When you've healed up I'll have to teach you some moves - it would help you with bigger opponents"

"I fear I may be a bit slow for water dancing"

"You'll be fine - you're a quick learner"

Stepping further into the room Sansa made her presence known. Her husband looked more tired than when she left, but his mouth twitched upwards as she approached.

"You didn't take long. Did you miss us?" said Arya

"I missed my husband" she corrected, turning her gaze to Tyrion "Are you feeling up for a quick visit? I came across your squire and thought she might like to see you"

He shifted against the pillows, tapping at the bed with his good hand "I'd like to see Nessa…but I don't want to scare her"

"She keeps asking about you" said Arya "I told her you got hurt and you need time to recover, so she knows you won't be at your best"

"Here, let me help" said Sansa

A few minutes later she'd covered Tyrion with blankets until only the top of his chest and shoulders was showing, obscuring at least some of the damage from the view. She opened the door and the young girl entered the room, eyes darting around until they settled on Tyrion.

"Hello Nessa" he called, forcing some cheer into his tone "I've not seen you for a while"

Sansa crouched next to the girl who stood nervously just inside the room "Why don't you go see him?"

The squire approached Tyrion and Arya lifted the girl onto the edge of the bed so she could talk to him.

"Hello Tyrion" she said, eyeing him with concern "Do you feel better?"

"Yes, thank you"

"Your beard's gone" she noted with some panic "and your hair's all short"

"It is" he said, dropping his voice to a whisper "I think Sansa's trying to tell me something"

The girl giggled, before her face grew sad "I missed you - Mother and Ethan do too"

"I missed seeing you all as well. I'm back now, though I fear I won't be able to leave the castle for a little while"

The girls face lit up as she shoved her package towards him "Oh! We made this for you - it's the bread cake you like!"

Tyrion's eyes widened before his face settled into a warm smile "Thank you Nessa - you didn't need to do that"

"We wanted to do something to make you feel better" said Nessa, smiling widely at how her gift was received "When you're better Mother says she's going to make you a big dinner and she won't let you say no"

"I'm sure she won't" he said with a laugh

Warmth flooded Sansa watching them interact. Nessa's nerves quickly fell away as they spoke and the girl gazed at Tyrion with pure adoration. He would make such a good father - it was a shame he didn't want children. As much as Sansa had always wanted them she would never force Tyrion again.

Arya caught her eye and the two sisters moved just outside the door, leaving Nessa and Tyrion to talk.

"Well?" asked Arya

Sansa shook her head "Not good news. Lord Glover refuses to believe the charges against Gawan and has withdrawn his support until an apology is made"

"He should lose his head" growled Arya "his loyalty is to the crown"

"We can't blame him for his son's crimes, and many of those letters have mentioned a lack of support for me. I've not been a very good Queen. Its respect for Tyrion that's compelling many of the minor houses to still support us"

"You've done your best Sansa. We need to hunt down Gawan and Robin - and we need them to confess"

Sansa's mouth pressed into a tight line "Easier said than done. I need you to take charge of the search for now Arya. I've made the North my priority for too long - Tyrion needs me"

"I understand big sister. He's definitely getting sick"

* * *

Sansa glanced back around the door where Nessa was busy telling Tyrion some kind of story regarding a boy called Ethan, her husband was nodding with interest but his face was flushed and she could see he was struggling to sit upright. Worry and guilt tore through Sansa. She'd made a mess of being a Queen and being a wife - now all she could do was pick up the pieces. This time it would be different. Her priority was right in front of her and she wouldn't lose sight of him again.

Tyrion dropped his head to one side, studying the green eyes that mimicked his movement. He'd paid no mind to the direwolf pup since his return to Winterfell despite the creature's attempts to win his affection. The wolf was a constant presence at his side and even now it sat at the bottom of the bed staring at him. Sansa had excused herself to take a quick bath in the adjacent room, though he could tell she didn't want to leave him. Guilt wound through him for worrying her last night. He'd intended to leave; convinced himself it was the right thing to do. Yet when he'd stepped through the gates out of Winterfell his resolve had wavered. Somewhere deep inside a tiny ember of hope was still flickering - refusing to be drowned out by the darkness that clung to him. Among the dominant, roaring voices of his many doubts and fears the ember had whispered softly to him. It promised him many things - that Winterfell could be his home; that he could have the love and family he'd always craved. Ignoring the last, desperate whisper of his broken soul might have been easier if Sansa hadn't appeared. She hadn't tried to reason with him, or berated him for leaving. She'd stood quietly by his side, holding her Stark cloak behind him - a silent offer. Tyrion had known his options then. He could leave Winterfell and Sansa behind. He could take the black and live out his days alone.

Or he could stay.

Staying meant accepting his place at Winterfell; as Sansa's husband and all that came with it. Staying meant maybe he could be part of a family, maybe he could have a home – or he could be rejected again. Choosing to stay meant giving his life another chance. He thought he'd found a home with Daenerys across the narrow sea once. In many ways she was like the sister he'd always wanted, until everything fell apart and the world burned. All his life he'd been beaten, humiliated and scorned for all to see; the message was clear that the world didn't want him. His soul was in tatters. Could he risk killing the last piece of himself for that which had always been denied him?

In the end he'd yielded. He gave in to the ember of hope; the tiny piece of him that wasn't cynical and broken. Sansa was offering him everything he'd ever wanted and as foolish as it seemed, Tyrion surrendered himself to her - trusting Sansa with the last fragment of hope he possessed. She hadn't rejected him when he agreed to go back to Winterfell. Her warmth had enveloped him, thawing at the cold that clung to his soul as she wrapped her Stark cloak around him.

_'My love is yours - now and forever'_

Oh, how he hoped that was true. Sansa held what was left of his heart and if it broke this time there would be no coming back from it.

Tyrion inhaled a deep breath before holding his right hand out to the wolf. He'd chosen to stay and that meant he had to try. As Arya had pointed out earlier; he was part of their pack now however strange it felt to him. His body ached horribly as he sat propped up in bed, though it centred on his ankle as he waited for the direwolf to respond. The golden wolf pup tilted its head to look at him before padding across the bed and brushing against his hand, whining softly at the attention.

"Hello" he said, tentatively brushing a hand through its thick coat "I suppose I should thank you for saving my life"

The creature leaned into his touch and Tyrion forced himself to continue stroking its fur, despite how nervous the wolf made him. Both Sansa and Arya had refused the direwolf, telling him it was meant for him. The Starks shared a connection with their wolves which had been obvious to see between Jon Snow and Ghost. Tyrion had no Northern blood at all and despite Sansa's reassurances the wolf was bonded to him, he remained sceptical of its allegiance.

"I'm not a Stark you know" he told the pup as he scratched behind its ear "Sansa or Arya would be much more worthy of you. I'd encourage you to choose one of them as your companion"

The direwolf observed him with intelligent green eyes, before licking his face and lying across his lap.

"If you insist, I suppose you can stay with me" he said, wiping at the slobber on his face "Just promise you won't bite my fingers off if I pet you?"

A small laugh reached his ears, and Tyrion looked up to see Sansa watching him.

"Negotiating a truce?" she asked, amusement shining in her eyes

"I tried to convince him there were better prospects, but he seems rather stuck on me"

"I think he's made a very good choice, and I'm glad you've accepted him"

"He didn't leave me much choice really. Are you sure you won't have him?" said Tyrion, lightly brushing the wolf's back

Sansa's red hair was still damp as she sat on the bed beside him "Me and Arya both tried to give him some attention since you wouldn't but he never seemed to enjoy it. He's your direwolf Tyrion"

"Rather strange colouring for a direwolf"

"A bit unusual, but so was Ghost's colouring"

Tyrion dropped his head back against the pillows "A coat of gold - almost like a lion"

The wolf pup's ears pricked up at that, turning to look at Tyrion.

"I think he liked that" said Sansa

"He needs a name I suppose. Any ideas?"

"When I named Lady, I looked at her to see what came to mind"

The wolf's green eyes were watching Tyrion as he stared at the creature; all that came to mind was a Lannister lion.

"He looks like a lion" said Tyrion "I can't call him that"

"Why not?"

Tyrion fidgeted under Sansa's gaze "This is the North. Besides why name a direwolf after a different animal?"

"Lion's are quite welcome in the North, Tyrion" said Sansa, taking his hand "You could just change the spelling if it bothers you so much"

The direwolf whined, nudging Tyrion with his nose "Very well - I suppose you can be called Lyon then. Satisfied?"

A happy bark escaped the wolf and he returned to lying across his master. Sansa smiled at Tyrion, brushing her hand over the wolf "A good name - and he seems to like it"

A wave of dizziness swept through Tyrion and he struggled to conceal a shudder that wracked his body - not with any success as Sansa's face twisted into a look of concern.

She pressed her hand to his forehead "You're burning up"

"I'm fine" he insisted

"You're not" she said, with a sigh "but you will be"

Sansa stood from the bed, disappearing out of the door. Tyrion's head grew heavy as he wound his fingers through Lyon's fur. Sansa returned a moment later wish a basin of water and cloth in hand. She dipped the cloth in the water and lifted it towards him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, stiffening as she brushed the cloth over his forehead

"You're burning up Tyrion, I need to cool you down" she replied, gently pushing him into the pillows and continuing to press the cloth against him "Just relax"

Tyrion's chest grew tight as she repeated the action - this was wrong. Sansa shouldn't be treating him with such tenderness; he was an imp, a monster. In his younger years Tyrion had certainly earned his nickname and spent much of his time with women, yet this with Sansa seemed far more intimate than anything else he'd experienced. Perhaps it was because he wasn't paying for it this time. There was no discernible reason for Sansa to be showing him such care and it unnerved him more than anything.

"You don't need to do this" he said, trying to pull away from her "I'm fine really - you should rest"

Sansa pursed her lips, gripping his good arm to keep him still "You're really not used to anyone looking after you, are you?"

A sense of shame rose in Tyrion "Sorry…"

Tyrion's lowered his eyes from Sansa not wanting to see the disgust in her face. To his surprise her soft lips pressed against his forehead a moment later.

"You've much to learn then" she said, smiling as she guided his head to lie against the pillows "Firstly, you focus on recovering and let your family take care of you. Secondly, families look after each other and you don't need to thank them for doing so or be embarrassed for needing help"

Warmth ignited in Tyrion at her words. Sansa blue eyes were filled with gentleness as she leaned towards him.

"The most important thing to remember though is I love you more than anything" she said, looking straight into his eyes "I've treated you horribly, but no more. You're mine to protect and I will take care of you my love"

"Sansa…I…" he started, his throat tightening

"Shh, save your strength" she soothed, brushing her fingers through his hair "You're safe here. I won't hurt you ever again, I promise"

A whirlwind of emotion swept through Tyrion, but the throbbing in his body was getting worse and he found his eyes sliding shut as Sansa continued her gentle ministrations. The last thing he saw was Sansa's kind smile as she leaned over him.

* * *

Sansa's heart lurched watching Tyrion once again empty the contents of his stomach into the basin she held beneath him. This was his third bout of vomiting today and each time seemed to be more violent than the last.

"I'm sorry" he said, voice hoarse as she rubbed his back

"Don't worry – it's better to get it all out" she reassured him

Since last night her husband had grown increasingly weak as the fever raged stronger than ever. Even now his bare skin was hot to the touch and it terrified her. She would not have her second chance with Tyrion taken away by an illness. He would get through this and heal.

Maester Wolkan had been to check on him this morning. During an earlier bout of vomiting Sansa had been adjusting Tyrion in the bed when he'd felt the urge to be sick. In an effort to not throw up over her Tyrion had twisted violently away, inadvertently rolling his broken ankle to one side. He'd blacked out from the pain, flopping lifelessly against her as she screamed for someone to get Wolkan. He'd come round before the Maester arrived, and continued vomiting as she tried desperately to hide her panic from him. The old man had diagnosed Tyrion with a form of Winter Fever. The most severe form of the illness had died out many years ago. Less aggressive but still dangerous forms were common in the North, particularly among children and other groups unaccustomed to the harsh climate. The Maester had offered to take over Tyrion's care, but she'd refused – determined to support him herself. Wolkan had given her advice on how to treat Tyrion and left medicine that could help, but most of his advice she'd learnt from her mother long ago. The Maester had said he would come and check on him regularly, but after settling Tyrion into bed once more she'd pulled the old man aside once outside the chamber door.

"This is my fault, isn't it?" she'd said "I never should have let him go outside"

"Your Grace, as hard as it is to hear – an illness was inevitable. Even without his kidnapping, lord Tyrion ate and slept very little. He did not look after himself and eventually his body would have betrayed him – most likely he would have become ill. His time in captivity and the numerous injuries he sustained has weakened him to the point where this was unpreventable. You mustn't blame yourself. Although his night time excursion aggravated his injuries I doubt it played any role in his current illness"

Now hours later as Tyrion heaved over the basin with her arm supporting him Sansa couldn't deny the guilt. She should have looked after him before this. She was his wife; it was her duty and she'd failed.

"Decided I don't like vomit" he said as she wiped his face

"I'd worry if you did"

"It smells"

"Vomit tends to; we can open a window"

Tyrion's head was already drooping as she settled him down to rest again.

"I'm sorry..." he said, eyes sliding shut

* * *

"That's some nice steel" said Bronn, reclining in his seat at the small council

Bran turned to face him "A shame it's broken"

"The end of the blade is lost, your Grace" said Brienne "that's all that could be recovered"

A damaged Valyrian steel sword; one of two forged from Ned Starks sword lay in the centre of the table. The other half of Ice hung at Ser Brienne's hip, and until Kings Landing burned this half had been wielded by Jamie Lannister.

"You gonna reforge it? Aint really long enough for a sword now" asked Bronn, ignoring the glare Brienne shot him for his casual language

The pommel was broken beyond repair and the blade itself was missing the top piece, a deep crack ran down the centre of the blade as it bent in the middle.

"It's not my decision"

"It was forged from you family's sword, as was Oathkeeper. Both blades belong to the Stark's" said Brienne

"Oathkeeper belongs to you lord commander" said Bran, observing the Knight "and this one belongs to the Starks. I will write to Queen Sansa and ask what she wants to be done with it. It's useless as it is now"

"Aye but ya could get yourself a couple of nice daggers out of it. Why bother sending it North?" said Bronn

"You are not a sellsword anymore, would it kill you to speak to the King with some kind of respect?" said Brienne, mouth pressing into a firm line

Ser Davos tapped his fingers on the table "Are we going to do anything productive or waste the whole day trying to fix the master of coin's manners?"

"It's a lost cause anyway" said Brienne

"You two best get off your damned high horses or I'll remind you why I lasted so long as a sellsword"

Bran tuned out their bickering, observing the sword before him. A small piece of Brandon Stark was grieved at the state of his family's blade. Ice would have always gone to Robb first, but Bran had once dreamed of being a Knight and wielding a sword just as great. Now his dreams were not his own and becoming a Knight was but a whisper of a past life.

"A weapon is useless to me" said Bran, gaining their attention "my sisters can decide what to do with this blade. I trust rebuilding efforts are going well?"

"As well as can be expected, your Grace" said Ser Davos with a sigh "There are still a number of castles left empty from houses wiped out in the war. HIghgarden and Casterly Rock are the two most important. We need a new lord of the Reach and a new Warden of the West"

"They'll have to be strong, trustworthy lords as both are important seats. The last person given Highgarden wasn't up to the task at all" said Brienne, shooting a glare at Bronn

"I liked the castle, but people kept bothering me to organise their food supplies and trade deals. At least at the Twins I get two castles and a bridge" said Bronn with a shrug

"Leave that matter to me" said Bran "Ser Brienne is correct, they're important seats to fill and I'll need to consider it carefully"

"Very good, your Grace" said Ser Davos with a nod "Anything else?"

"For now that is all we can do. Focus on rebuilding Kings Landing and bringing trade back to Westeros. I will write to the Queen in the North and see if any solutions present themselves"

The three still exchanged glances at his vague answers, but they were getting used it. The three-eyed raven saw so much, yet putting it into words and actions was more difficult than expected. At best his words were vague and at worst creepy. Nevertheless, that was the price of being the three-eyed raven - the price of being able to fly.

* * *

Sansa hadn't truly prayed to any Gods for a long time, but she decided if they existed they were cruel. Cersei had once told her Tywin Lannister believed in the Gods but didn't like them very much and she was beginning to understand the sentiment. Sitting at Tyrion's bedside as illness ravaged his body, Sansa was ready to become a sceptic. The lord of Winterfell was sweating profusely even as he shivered, while Sansa stirred a spoon through the broth she needed to feed him.

"You're so beautiful"

Tyrion's weak voice drew her from her reflection and she found herself looking at familiar green eyes; burning brightly with fever. He was awake but she could tell from his voice and the faraway look on his face he was delirious.

"Are you trying to charm me, my love?" she said, lifting the spoon to his mouth and encouraging him to eat.

The only positive of his confused state was he didn't seem quite as embarrassed while she fed him. He hadn't thrown up since yesterday and was in desperate need of proper food; she hoped he could keep this broth down.

"I'm dreaming" he said, after a few spoonful's

"You're not dreaming, you're just not yourself at the moment"

"I'm dreaming" he repeated, a smile crossing his face "It's ok, I like this dream"

"Oh? What dream would that be?"

"A beautiful Queen is looking at me" he said "and she's not laughing"

Sansa's heart constricted "Why would I laugh at a handsome lord?"

Tyrion's smile turned sad "I'm an imp"

"You're a great lord; and you're my husband"

At that Tyrion shook his head "That's how I know it's a dream"

"I'm your wife Tyrion" she said, leaning closer to him "and this is your castle"

"I had a wife once" he said, lowering his eyes "She didn't really love me though, she just used me"

Sansa's heart pounded at his words, guilt ballooning within her.

"I loved her" he continued "Even when father made me watch all the guards take my wife, paying her each time – I still loved her. The silver coins were overflowing by the time they were done"

Relief crashed through Sansa that he hadn't been referring to her own mistreatment of him, followed swiftly by fury.

"I'm so sorry" she said gently, taking his hand in hers

Tywin Lannister was a monster. She'd heard mention of Tyrion's first marriage in Kings Landing and when she'd confronted him Tyrion had been honest but brief with the details. She'd known what had befallen Tysha, but at the time she hadn't had much sympathy with her husband. It was just after the red wedding and her anger at the Lannister's had numbed her to the true horror of his story. Now hearing the story years later a new anger enveloped her at Tywin's cruelty to his own son. What kind of father would do that? Her mind turned to Shae - another woman he'd loved who'd betrayed him and then shared a bed with his father. It was little wonder he found it hard to believe her love for him.

"I'm dreaming" he said again, brow furrowing as though he was trying to convince himself "I don't mind - this is better than my other dreams"

Sansa hated seeing him so confused, and her hand trembled as she resumed feeding him the broth "That's good. You just relax, no-one will hurt you here"

"You're nice to me. Father wasn't - he hated me. Cersei did too. I was her brother and she hated me" he said, eyes downcast

"They were horrible people. You're my husband and you have a new family now" she said, watching the hope spark in his green eyes "You have two new brothers and a sister - Arya loves you very much"

Jon was technically her cousin, but he'd been raised as her brother and she'd always consider him as such. She knew Bran considered Tyrion a friend at the very least and Arya obviously loved him.

"Really?"

"Promise" she told him

Tyrion didn't speak after that and obediently ate the rest of the food, his bright eyes gazing at her with reverence. He was looking at her as though she was the Maiden in flesh, and tears burned in her eyes at the sight. She didn't deserve his adoration, even if it was a product of the sickness clinging to him. When the bowl was empty, she moved it to the table returning to find Tyrion's good hand fiddling with his blanket.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, settling onto the bed next to him

Tyrion bit his lip as he looked up at her "Maybe…"

"Whatever you'd like" she promised, curious to hear his request for he had yet to ask her for anything

"Maybe…" he mumbled, eyes looking up at her "could I have a hug?"

She knew it was the fever talking, but his shy request melted her heart all the same.

"Of course" she said, enveloping him in her arms "all the hugs you want"

"You're so soft" he whispered, leaning against her

Sansa tightened her grip. She knew if Tyrion was well the chances of him seeking comfort with her was next to none, as much as she wanted to give it to him. Her heart sank all the same at the heat coming from his small body; his condition was getting worse not better.

* * *

_"Kingslayer!"_

_"Monster"_

_The shouts echoed around Tyrion as he was dragged onto the platform. His hands were bound behind his back as he was led onto the platform a crowd of thousands spread out below it._

_Cersei and his father stood waiting for him on the platform._

_"Tyrion of house Lannister, by the laws of Gods and men you have been found guilty of regicide and treason in the death of the late King Joffrey Baratheon" said his father, voice ringing out across the crowd._

_The hand of the King pin glinted in the sunlight on his father's tunic, a satisfied gleam in his eyes even as his voice remained emotionless._

_"You are hereby sentenced to death"_

_Tyrion's legs fell weak as a guard placed a block on the platform, his mind screaming at him to escape. It was no use - the guards were too strong and Tyrion found himself being pulled closer to the block._

_'No. I'm innocent!' he screamed though no words left his mouth. He was powerless; he had no voice to defend himself._

_Cersei's smirking face appeared before him - a wooden pike in hand._

_"I've been preparing this for years" she hissed as he was pulled past her_

_His heart hammered against his chest as Ser Ilyn Payne stepped onto the platform pulling a black mask over his face as he withdrew his great sword._

_'No! It wasn't me'_

_Tyrion wanted to cry. The crowds were singing for his blood as his father and sister watched in anticipation. He tried to free his hands but they wouldn't budge and the guards either side of him forced him to his knees before the block. This was it. He was going to die for something he didn't do. In desperation he looked for his brother. Jamie would save him, he always saved him. His eyes finally landed on Jamie - stood with his arm around Cersei. His face was sorrowful but it broke Tyrion's heart all the same. His brother had chosen Cersei - he would always choose Cersei._

_'I'm your brother' he tried to shout at his siblings, eyes moving to his father 'I'm your son'_

_A rough hand grabbed his head jerking his gaze from his family and pulling it downwards to expose his neck. Tyrion's breathing sped up. He was going to lose his head; they were going to kill him. The crowd was growing louder but all Tyrion could hear was the heavy footfalls of the Kings Justice as he approached._

_He squeezed his eyes shut rather than look at the crowd who wanted his head; who he'd saved from Stannis at the Blackwater. The crowd fell silent and Tyrion knew the moment had come. No-one was going to save him this time. He didn't want to die…_

* * *

Sweat was pouring from Tyrion as he thrashed in his sleep. Sansa took hold of his shoulders trying to hold him still as his face contorted in fear. After feeding him dinner he'd slept for a while, his temperature growing steadily worse. He'd woken a couple of times since but winter fever held Tyrion firmly in its clutches turning her clever husband delirious.

Now he twisted in her grip, his skin warm and flushed under her hands as his mind remained trapped in some kind of terror. Whatever nightmare was plaguing him it was evoking a terrible reaction in the lord of Winterfell.

"Tyrion" she called "You're safe, please stay still"

He continued to writhe on the bed until his eyes suddenly shot open, staring up at her as he sucked in rattling breaths.

"It's ok…" she started, keeping her arms at his shoulders. His eyes were distant and haunted as he stared up at her.

He struggled feebly against her hold, his good arm reaching out towards her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, brow furrowing

Sansa loosened her grip in case that was the cause of his distress and Tyrion immediately fell towards her, scrambling with his good hand to grab her. His face crumpled as his body's weakness betrayed him, but understanding bloomed through Sansa at what he wanted.

"I'm sorry" she said, quickly closing the gap and pulling him into her embrace. Immediately his right hand wound into her gown as gut wrenching sobs spilled from him.

"It's ok sweetheart" she soothed, feeling him bury his face in her shoulder "What did you dream?"

Tyrion said nothing but continued to cry on her shoulder. Sansa gladly held him, annoyed at herself for not realising what he wanted in the first place. She never found out what nightmare had caused him such distress, though she had no doubt the sickness plaguing him had made it worse. Eventually his sobs grew quieter as she whispered reassurances in his ear, and she realised he'd fell asleep once more.

The winter fever was getting worse. Rickon had suffered a form of it as a small child and she recalled her mother explaining the different stages as they cared for him. As she carefully lowered Tyrion back to the bed, she realised her gown was damp from the sweat that coated his broken body. Her stomach churned uncomfortably as fear gnawed at her heart. He was getting worse; she'd have to summon the Maester. If they didn't break his fever he would die. There had to be some way to help him; she couldn't survive losing him.

* * *

Tyrion's eyes were sticky as he tried to peel them open. It was hot. Why was he so hot? A girl with dark hair was leaning over him. He knew her - it was Arya. She was his sister. He wanted to sit up and greet her properly, but his body refused to move as though he was being weighed down by stones. Sansa was there too. She was talking to an old man in grey robes with a heavy chain around his neck at one side of the room. She seemed upset - he didn't like to see Sansa upset.

His mind fumbled to grasp onto what was going on but all he got was disconnected snippets that made no sense.

"…he's getting worse…"

"…there's still a chance…could try an ice bath…"

"can't lose him…"

"If he survives the night…"

Sansa was crying. Why was she crying? Who was she worried about? He should go to her - maybe he could help. Tyrion wanted to, but his body wouldn't cooperate. Every part of him ached as Arya's watery grey eyes bore into him. Her mouth was moving and he realised she was saying something to him.

"Tyrion…" she called

He tried to focus on Arya's face but the room seemed to be spinning around him. Why was it so hot?

"What do we say to the God of death big brother?" she asked

Tyrion's mind fumbled for the answer. He knew this. He remembered this. The world around him was growing dimmer and the voices in the room seemed less defined but the answer came to him.

"…not today" he said, voice barely above a whisper

Arya's face twisted into a sad smile and he knew he'd got it right as the world went dark around him.

* * *

Sansa Stark was exhausted as she took her place on the throne in the great hall. The night before last death had almost taken Tyrion from her. The winter fever had raged through his battered body to the point where Maester Wolkan had prepared her for the worst. Even Arya had looked at Tyrion as if readying a final goodbye. Sansa would not let death claim him. In desperation she'd ordered them both to leave and asked the servants to prepare an ice bath in the hopes of breaking his fever. Tyrion had shuddered in her arms as she stripped him naked and lowered him in the cold water, but he did not wake - even as she packed clumps of snow against his burning skin.

She'd kept him in there as long as she dared before returning him to the bed, his bandages and splints a soggy mess. That didn't matter as long as he lived - they could fix that; she couldn't fix losing him. It was midday yesterday when his fever finally broke and his restless sleep turned peaceful. Wolkan had declared him over the worst of it but Sansa had barely slept through fear of losing him. Even now she didn't want to part from him, but this rider had come with urgent business. So urgent he would only speak to the Queen in person. Reluctantly she'd left Tyrion sleeping under Arya's watchful eyes to be here.

"State your business" she called, as a young man with dark, wild hair entered the great hall. A dirty travelling cloak hung over his shoulder and she noticed the man had a vicious scar across the right side of his neck.

"I come on behalf of my father - lord Mazin. We hold Ramsgate in the crowns name"

"You are?"

"My name is Karlon Mazin, his last son and heir. My family fought for yours in the battle of the bastards, but you seem to have forgotten us your Grace. We answered your call and I lost two older brothers"

"If you've called my personal attention to air your grievances, you couldn't have chosen a worse time. I hope that's not the case"

Sansa realised her commitment to being a better Queen wasn't off to a good start but after battling to save Tyrion's life her nerves were more than a little frayed. The last thing she needed was yet another reminder of her failings as Queen.

The young man gazed at her with contempt "My family died for you, we lost good men for you and you've done nothing to help. Know that I come only because lord Tyrion has aided Ramsgate when no-one else would. He sent us aid when we needed it and one of the girls he saved in the Wolfswood was from Ramsgate"

"Why do you come? If you wish to thank the lord of Winterfell he is indisposed at the moment"

"I come because my father received a letter offering him an alliance. It bears no identifying house sigils or names but it's obvious who sent it. Lord Flint is orchestrating a rebellion against you, your Grace" said the young man, tossing a letter at the foot of the throne "I hope this time you'll remember who your allies are"


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

The sunlight streaming through the windows of her chambers did nothing to chase the chill from Sansa as she reread the letter for what could be the tenth time.

_Lord Mazin_

_It's come to my attention that naming Sansa Stark Queen in the North may have been an error. She is a Queen for the few and not the many. Her time away from the North in her youth has made her one of them rather than one of us. I'm well aware of the sacrifices your house made to aid the Starks in reclaiming Winterfell from the Bolton's, yet your own pleas for help have continuously fallen on deaf ears. The North finally has independence; there is a whole world of possibilities out there for us but Queen Sansa continues to cling to the six kingdoms of Westeros where her brother rules. We should be making our own trade deals across the narrow sea - not relying on the cooperation of a kingdom that has continuously scorned us Northerners._

_I believe that now the war is over the North has had time to truly look at the Queen, and her failings have become increasingly clear. We can do better and we must if we want an independent North to flourish. The North remembers and that includes every house and every man from the highborn to the lowborn._

_I offer you a chance to help shape the future of the North, to show the Starks that Winter is coming for them and our families sacrifices matter as much as theirs. They were once a great house, but the past few years have shown them to be weak - it's time for a new great house. I hope you will join the new age of the North. Send your reply to the Dreadfort - I look forward to working with you._

As Karlon Mazin had said the letter bore no sigils or anything that could identify the writer but she knew this was Robin Flint. She'd spent enough time with him to recognise his manipulative words that hid a lust for power. Gawan was no doubt working with him, but Robin would be the brains behind the operation. Following her meeting with the young lord Mazin, Sansa had offered him the hospitality of Winterfell which he reluctantly accepted out of exhaustion.

A rebellion.

Sansa swallowed thickly; they wanted her gone. She'd fought for an independent North and when she got it she'd made a mess of everything.

She'd practically run back to her chambers following the meeting, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. Tyrion was still sleeping soundly, but Arya's eyes had widened in shock as she explained what had happened. Her sister's face tightened as she read the letter, her fingers twitching towards needle.

"Arya…I don't know what to do. Should I give up the crown? I don't want more Northerners to die - no more blood needs to be shed"

"That is exactly why you can't give it up" said Arya, gripping Sansa's arms "You made mistakes - but you truly love the North"

"They don't want me anymore; I'm as bad as Cersei" said Sansa "How could I let this happen?"

"Think about it - we know this letter is from Robin Flint. If you give up the crown then he'll move for power with Gawan. Do you really want those monsters ruling the North? He even mentions trade across the narrow sea - what do you think he's going to trade? Young girls into slavery most likely. You saw what they did to Tyrion, they can't be allowed near power"

Sansa reluctantly met her sister's gaze, seeing determination blazing in her grey eyes "You're right. They can't go free - not after what they've done…"

"You've been under a lot of stress taking care of Tyrion; you need to unwind. I'll talk to Maester Wolkan and then we can all meet tomorrow to finalise a plan"

Sansa struggled to find the right words to express her gratitude. The weight of her responsibilities had been about to crush her, but Arya's reassurance and quick plan had eased it a little, even if only temporarily.

"Thank you" she managed

Arya's mouth quirked up "Always. Besides Tyrion's going to need you. He can finally start healing now he's getting over his illness but what he suffered in the Wolfswood needs to be dealt with. You focus on him, and let me handle this for now. Gawan's an idiot and Robin's not as clever as he likes to think"

Sansa glanced longingly at Tyrion. She wanted his advice more than anyone's but Arya was right - his sickness had distracted them from dealing with the horrors he endured in the Wolfswood. She couldn't leave him alone to deal with that; no matter what he was her first priority.

Arya had left a couple of hours ago, leaving Sansa alone with her thoughts and her husband. Tyrion hadn't woken yet but she was content that he was merely resting. Standing stiffly from her chair by the hearth, she moved to check on him. Wolkan had needed to replace all of his splints and bandages following the ice bath she'd given him and the Maester had decided he no longer needed a dressing over the brand on his shoulder, but still needed to cover the healing gash across his chest. His left arm was once again in a sling and his broken ankle was propped on a cushion, but his face looked much more relaxed than it had for the past few days.

Sansa smiled at the sight of him. He was lying on his back with his right arm wrapped loosely around Lyon. The golden direwolf looked as content as his master as they slept.

"No more nearly dying" she whispered, brushing a hand over his forehead - relieved to find a normal temperature "The idea of losing you nearly broke me - I couldn't bear the real thing"

* * *

When awareness returned to Tyrion he began to have sympathy with the practice dummy he was fond of hitting. Everything from his head to his feet ached. He peeled his eyes open to find himself in bed, Lyon trapping his right arm beneath him as the direwolf curled against his side. Tyrion tried to slide his arm free without waking the wolf pup, but it was no use as green eyes darted open to find him. Lyon let out a soft bark, standing on the bed and licking his face.

"I think we need to talk about that" said Tyrion, grimacing at the dampness on his face. Lyon merely gazed at him before leaping off the bed and towards a bowl of water in the corner of the room. Regardless of the large ache that enveloped him, he decided sitting up would be a better – less helpless position to be in.

"Tyrion?"

He was leaning on his right side to try and push himself up when Sansa's familiar voice reached his ears. Glancing round the room he noticed the Queen rising from an armchair and hurrying towards him - a wide smile on her face.

"Hello Sansa" he said, frustration rising as his body trembled at the attempt to move

Why was he so weak?

"I'm so glad to see you" she said, appearing at his side of the bed and sinking onto the mattress "Do you want to sit up?"

Tyrion's face burned as Sansa easily slid her arms around him and propped him against the headboard like a small child. She cupped his face, staring straight into his eyes.

"It's really you" she said, letting out a breath

"Who else would it be?"

"You've not been yourself for the past few days"

Tyrion's brow furrowed trying to remember what had happened. He'd tried to leave Winterfell but hadn't, Nessa had visited him and Sansa thought he was getting sick. He recalled throwing up several times and Sansa's concerned blue eyes as she tended to him. There were snippets of memories, and things he'd heard.

"I've not been myself?"

Sansa took hold of his right hand, gently rubbing circles with her thumb "What do you remember?"

"You were crying" he recalled "was someone unwell? I heard Maester Wolkan say 'if he survives the night' and something about an ice bath. Jon and Bran are okay I hope?"

Sansa stared at him for a long moment "That's what you remember?"

"You seemed upset and I wanted to help you but…" he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably "I couldn't get up for some reason. I think I saw Arya too. Whoever you were worried about, are they alright?"

Sansa was smiling as she sat opposite him but tears glistened at the corners of her eyes.

"I was crying" she admitted "I came very close to losing someone precious to me. What you heard was right, Maester Wolkan didn't think he would last the night but if he did there was a chance he would recover"

Tyrion swallowed hard, wondering who could be important enough for Sansa's tears to fall "Did he survive the night?"

"He did" said Sansa a twinkle in her eyes "He's only a little lion, but he's so very strong"

It took Tyrion longer than he'd care to admit for his brain to register what Sansa was saying "What..?

"You" she laughed, taking his face in her hands once more "The winter fever nearly took you my love, but you survived. You'll be ok now, I promise"

A whirlwind of emotions swept through Tyrion. An illness - he'd nearly died.

"You were crying because of me?"

"Of course I was - I love you. The fever raged for days, and you were delirious for most of it"

That would explain why he remembered so little "I remember throwing up"

Sansa nodded "It was just after that you got worse. It's been three days since you were throwing up, after that you deteriorated and weren't yourself"

Three days. His mind struggled to comprehend what Sansa had told him, but his weakened state was evidence enough. The pillows and headboard were the only things keeping him upright; his body was as feeble as a new born kitten.

Tyrion fiddled with the blanket "I'm sorry Sansa. I just keep causing you problems. First I get captured by…them…and then I get sick"

Sansa stared at him before tilting her head to one side "If I was taken by Robin and Gawan, what would you do?"

A sudden, all-encompassing fear gripped him at the thought "I'd never let them take you - I'd kill them all myself"

"But it would be my fault"

"No! Of course it wouldn't…"

"What if they hurt me? You'd have to get rid of me; I'd be a useless cripple after all"

Why was she saying this? He didn't want these dark thoughts of anyone hurting Sansa - she was innocent and good and kind. Her face turned away from him as she spoke.

"Never - I'd help you" he promised, searching for her blue eyes; hoping she could see his sincerity "I'd never turn away from you, not for anything"

"Even if I got sick? Even if I needed help to do everything for the rest of my life - you'd stay by my side?"

"Of course" he said immediately "No matter what"

Tyrion's heart hammered against his chest. Why was she thinking this? No-one would hurt Sansa - everything good in his life had been taken from him, he wouldn't let anyone hurt Sansa. Her face was downcast and she wouldn't meet his eyes. Was she afraid of something? Reaching out to Sansa his body trembled, but he managed to enclose her delicate hand in his.

"When I wrapped my cloak around you, I brought you under my protection. I made vows to both the old gods and the new to care for you. Have no fear Sansa - no matter what I'll be there for you" he said, squeezing her hand "For as long as you'll have me by your side"

A few moments passed before Sansa lifted her gaze to meet his, tears trickling down her face. "You're a good man Tyrion Lannister, and a far better husband than I deserve"

"You deserve more than I could ever give you" he said, familiar shame eating at his heart for his many inadequacies

Sansa took her hand from his, winding it through the back of his hair and bringing her face close enough for him to see the sparkling blue of her eyes "You wouldn't hesitate to protect and care for me - why should you expect anything less?"

Realisation hit Tyrion like a slap to the face and he felt more than a little stupid for not seeing through her words. The situation she'd described was what had befallen him. The idea of Sansa suffering even a fraction of what he had sent a shiver down his spine. He'd meant every word he said though – he would never turn his back on Sansa if she needed him.

"You may have cloaked me and brought me under your protection, but you're under mine too. Don't forget that Tyrion; you have a family that loves you"

"I...thank you" he said, struggling to find the words "for everything you've done for me"

"You never have to thank me. When I thought you were going to die I was willing to do anything to save you. Death would not take you from me – I wouldn't allow it"

"It was that bad?"

Sansa nodded "If the ice bath hadn't helped break your fever, we would have lost you. The illness took a lot out of you on top of your injuries, so you'll need plenty of rest to recover"

Tyrion dropped his gaze as Sansa brushed her hand over the side of his face. It was strange to come so close to dying and not even be aware of it. In the Wolfswood death had hung over him like an axe and he'd tried to make peace with it. To hear how he could have died without even being aware of it was rather unsettling.

Tyrion's head jerked up, eyes widening "Wait, what's this about an ice bath?"

Sansa had the decency to look sheepish "You were burning sweetheart, rest assured there was only us here. No-one else saw you naked"

"I was naked?" said Tyrion, heat creeping up his neck

"Well it was a bath. You weren't conscious which was probably for the best – I know you don't like the cold and I was rubbing snow all over you"

"That doesn't sound pleasant" he said, unable to look Sansa in the eye

Having Sansa help him dress and make use of the privy was one thing, letting her see him totally naked was another thing entirely. He'd never been proud of his body and had hoped Sansa would never have reason to see it.

Sansa continued to wind her fingers through his hair and he chanced a glance up at her to see amusement dancing in her eyes.

"What's so amusing?"

"It's just..." started Sansa "considering your nickname and tales of your exploits I never imagined you'd be so bashful about a woman seeing you naked"

"You're a Queen - not a whore I've paid to tell me sweet lies"

Sansa leaned forwards kissing his cheek "I'm not laughing at you, I promise. Your shyness in this regard is actually very sweet"

Tyrion couldn't be angry at Sansa, he could see she'd truly worried for him and done whatever she could to make sure he'd survive. Though it was hazy he could still see Sansa's distraught face as she spoke with the Maester. Letting him die from an illness could have freed her from him and their marriage easily – but she'd fought to save his life instead. A strange tingle warmed his chest as he sunk further into the pillows...maybe it wasn't just pity or duty she felt towards him. The flickering hope in his heart grew a little brighter but Tyrion refused to continue the train of thought. Sansa had gone to extreme measures to keep him alive; she'd done nothing but care for him since his return to Winterfell.

All the same he pouted at her "No more ice baths?"

"No more ice baths" she promised "unless you ever dare to get that sick again, in which case I'll give you one every night if I have too"

"I certainly won't get that sick again then"

The Queen in the North smiled at him tracing a finger over his shoulders "Not sure why you're embarrassed my love, you're a lot more muscular than I imagined"

A blush tinged his cheeks as she appraised him "I hoped you'd never see me naked"

"You've nothing to be ashamed of Tyrion"

"I'm a dwarf" he mumbled "a twisted little monster"

"You could never be a monster and being a dwarf doesn't matter to me - it shouldn't matter to anyone" she said, cupping his face "You're a hero Tyrion. All those girls are safe because of you. Rose came to see you before the wildlings left; she said you'd earned their respect and if you ever needed them to send word to the Gift"

"That was kind of her" he said, swallowing thickly

"It was. Though if we ever go near the Gift we'll need an armed escort"

"You don't trust the free folk?"

"Certainly not. I heard the way they were talking about you - they would be fighting each other to be your spear wife"

Tyrion's eyebrows rose "I find that rather hard to belief"

"It's true" she said "and I will not allow some wildling to steal my husband away"

His head was growing heavier as a soft yawn escaped him before he could stop it.

"You're tired" said Sansa, blue eyes searching his face "You seem much better than you were - how do you feel?"

"I'm fine" he said, shrinking under her sceptical gaze

"Do you want anything for the pain? I watched Wolkan redo your bandages, your injuries must be hurting you"

"No, thank you"

Sansa's eyes grew sad, though she smiled at him nonetheless "Is there nothing I can do for you?"

"You do far too much already"

"I want to help you Tyrion. Promise you'll tell me straight away if you don't feel well - I don't want to lose you. Please"

Sansa's eyes pleaded with him and he found himself unable to refuse "I promise"

"Good" she said "now I think you need some rest"

He made no protest as Sansa settled him into the bed, though guilt for his weakness continued to gnaw at him. Rest was necessary - he couldn't deny it, and despite his words to Sansa his injuries did continuously ache. The pain was a reminder of what had been done to him and no matter how kind Sansa was he couldn't quite shake the shame his injuries brought him.

"Sleep well my love" she said, kissing his forehead as she tucked the blankets around him "I'm here if you need anything"

It was so tempting to lean into the care Sansa was offering him. He'd chosen to stay at Winterfell - with Sansa, but each time he wanted to give into her affections or return them, a flicker of doubt would warn him against it. The last time he'd given into the temptation had been the night Sansa demanded an heir from him. The memory of her bedding him always chilled whatever warmth rose within him, casting a doubt over her sincerity and then guilt at himself for doubting her. It wasn't her fault - he just found it hard to trust…even though his heart wanted to.

* * *

It was the early hours when Sansa pulled herself from bed, determined to sort through the ever growing pile of correspondence she'd been ignoring. Tyrion was still sound asleep as she settled in at her desk. Talking to him yesterday had brought her great relief after the confusion that had plagued him during his illness - even if it showed how far he still had to go in order to heal.

More than anything she'd wanted to pull him against her to feel his still beating heart, and chase the shame from his eyes as she told him of the illness that had almost claimed him - and what she'd done to save him. Reluctantly she'd restrained herself. As eager as she was to shower her husband with her affection she was very aware he might not welcome her touch given her…treatment of him. She tried to content herself with kissing his face and holding his hand - small gestures to show her love.

Her mother had always praised her caring instincts although they'd become increasingly well hidden over the past few years. Now they urged her to take care of Tyrion - to give him the love and attention he so clearly needed. Part of the problem was getting him to accept it. During his illness he'd clung to her and despite the situation she'd loved being able to comfort him. The night he chose to stay at Winterfell he'd surrendered to her comfort and Sansa had treasured holding him safely in her arms that night – as if she was in some small way atoning for her mistreatment of him.

The Tyrion she'd married in Kings Landing would have eagerly accepted and returned whatever attention she gave him, now there was something holding Tyrion back from accepting her affection.

_'You know what it is'_ hissed Cersei's voice _'Don't be ashamed little dove, you had every right to take him - whether he wanted to or not'_

Sansa screwed her eyes shut, urging the dead Queen to leave her be. Deep down she knew what the root cause of the distance between her and Tyrion was. She'd apologised for having him exiled and mistreating him, but she had yet to properly apologise for…raping him. Some part of Tyrion must fear her - how could he not? Ramsay's touch had made her skin crawl, the thought that Tyrion might feel the same made her wary of forcing her love on him. They had to talk about it at some point, but how to broach the subject with him was a huge problem. She was certain he wouldn't want to mention it, but she needed him to know she regretted it - she needed to reassure him that it would never happen again. Maybe then he would start to trust her…maybe they could still be affectionate even if they were never again intimate. She liked being close to Tyrion, she wanted to care for him - if only he'd let himself be loved.

Suppressing a sigh, Sansa glanced across at the bed where her husband rested. He was alive - that was all that mattered. There was time to work on everything else.

Shuffling through her letters, Sansa sought a good place to start. There was so much to go through and she needed to be up to date for her meeting with Wolkan and Arya. Finally, her eyes landed on a letter bearing Bran's three-eyed raven sigil. Letters from her brother were always welcome, even if they did tie her stomach in knots. You never really knew if it was Bran or the three-eyed raven speaking; his words were often simple and vague - laced with double meanings. Sansa found she disliked that uncertainity. Dismantling clever words like littlefinger had once spoken now came easily to her, interpreting Bran's seemingly innocent words gave her nothing but a headache.

Her fingers quickly broke the seal, the paper rustling lightly as she spread it before her.

_Queen Sansa,_

_Ser Jamie Lannister's sword has been recovered during the rebuilding of the Red Keep. As you know this sword is Valyrian steel and the other half of our father's great sword. The end is missing and the steel damaged. There isn't enough steel left to make a full length sword, but it could still be reworked into two daggers or another bladed weapon. The sword belongs in Winterfell. It is for you and Arya to decide what is done with it. There is still one smith in Kings Landing who can rework Valyrian Steel - let me know what you want done with it and I'll send it onwards to you._

_I've been told by Ser Davos the major trade deal you've been creating between our kingdoms is ready for completion. It's an important sign of unity between the kingdoms and as such it should be signed in person. I would like to return to Winterfell to commemorate this deal and strengthen the links between the North and the six kingdoms. Send word if you are amenable to this and we should arrive within three weeks, though regrettably we will not arrive in time for lord Tyrion's name day. Give my best wishes to Arya and Tyrion._

_Bran Stark_

Sansa's eyes widened at the letter. It was formal and emotionless - even for Bran. Her brother sent his regards to Tyrion and Arya but not to her. Was he angry with her? Sansa wasn't sure Bran was capable of anger anymore, but the tone of his letter was strictly business towards her. A slither of ice slid down her back. Bran was the three-eyed raven. He'd seen her wedding night to Ramsay - he could see everything now. How much of her mistreatment of Tyrion had he seen?

Shaking her head to clear the disturbing thought, she refocused on the letter. A royal visit whilst rumours of rebellion were circulating in the North; Bran's timing couldn't be coincidental. It was no matter - she would not refuse a visit from her brother however different he was these days. There was truth in his words about the trade deal. She'd poured months of work into it and it would hopefully show her people that she was working in their interests when it brought food and work into their villages.

The sword was useless to her. Sansa had no desire for a weapon and Arya had a valyrian steel dagger as well as needle. Brienne had offered to leave her sword behind when she joined Bran's kingsguard as it was forged from their father's sword, but Sansa and Arya had adamantly refused. Oathkeeper was Brienne's sword and she was using it honourably to defend Bran.

Her eyes roamed over the letter once more, focusing on one line; Tyrion's name day. Much to her shame she didn't know his name day was coming up or even when it was. To the best of her memory she didn't recall Tyrion ever mentioning his name day, and glancing across at her husband she doubted he would. Life had never been fair to him, and since she brought him North she'd done very little to improve that. The past few weeks alone he'd been captured, tortured and so ill he nearly died. Obviously they would celebrate his name day and Sansa resolved to make it special for him. She'd speak to Arya and make her plans, but they wouldn't tell Tyrion - not unless he mentioned it.

A whirlwind of emotions swept through Sansa. Everything was happening at once; a rebellion, a royal visit and Tyrion's name day. Out of all those things that were now warring for dominance in her mind, Sansa knew which mattered the most to her.

* * *

Upon reading the letter that lord Mazin had received suggesting a rebellion, Arya had fought the urge to find her sister and say 'I told you so'. Part of Arya knew she was being unfair; Sansa had never been taught how to rule and was doing the best she could. On the other hand her older sister had turned into someone else over the past few years. Her words, actions and style were a blend of her Northern heritage and the brutal education she'd been subject to since they left Winterfell. The sister in Arya understood that Sansa had suffered horrendously and her reign as Queen was tainted by what she'd endured. The more rational part of Arya knew this disaster was partly her sister's own doing. The small folk had no love for the Queen who never saw them in court or left the walls of Winterfell, while many of the minor Northern houses felt snubbed in favour of the major houses.

Now sitting across from Sansa in the meeting room with Maester Wolkan, Arya could see her sister was realising her mistakes. What had happened to Tyrion had proved to be the Queen of ice's breaking point, but now Sansa could see her mistakes clearly and the view was bleak.

"What can we do? The people want me gone" said Sansa, wrapping her arms around herself

"It's only one letter" said Arya

"Who knows how many more have been sent across the North?"

"Not many I would think" said Maester Wolkan, lowering the letter to the table "Robin would not risk sending a letter like this unless he thought it likely the recipient would side with him. That has already proved to be wrong in the case of house Mazin"

"Only because they respect Tyrion" said Sansa, looking away from them

"Lord Tyrion is well respected by many of the minor lords and word of his heroics in the Wolfswood is only strengthening his support" said Wolkan

"While the rumours of what Robin and Gawan have done are costing them support" said Sansa, her mouth pressing into a tight line

"No true Northerner would support people found guilty of slavery or working with the unsullied against the lord of Winterfell" said Arya "we just need to show everyone how guilty they are"

"To do that we need to find them" said Sansa

"The letter instructed lord Mazin to send a reply to the Dreadfort" said Wolkan

"Robin and Gawan won't be there" said Sansa "That part of the North is full of empty seats and was badly damaged in the long night. There is only the Gift being used at the moment. Most likely they're moving between the empty seats. The North is huge and searching it all would be impossible"

Arya hid a smile at her sister's observation. Sansa was good at politics despite her mistakes as Queen - she was far more intelligent than people gave her credit for.

"I would not worry too much about this your Grace" said the Maester, offering her a kind smile "I don't believe the North has an appetite for further conflict and many like lord Mazin will not answer their call"

"Regardless we need to prepare for the possibility that some houses will" said Sansa "if any major houses joined them, minor ones would follow"

Arya drummed her fingers against the table "Well we know lord Cerwyn and lady Tallhart won't join them - they're loyal friends"

"Lord Hornwood is also unlikely to support them given you legitimised him and made him a lord" added Wolkan

"Agreed. Lord Manderly hasn't responded to the letter calling for the capture of Robin and Gawan - more than likely he's communicating with lord Glover and both will not act until we prove the allegations are true. They are two of the biggest houses in the North and could cause a huge problem if they went against us" said Sansa

"I'd suggest the best course of action is to continue hunting for Robin and Gawan" said the old man his chain clinking as he sat back in the chair "Murmurs of rebellion plague every monarch and it very rarely results in action"

Arya glanced across at her sister "Maester Wolkan's right - I think Robin and Gawan are getting desperate and trying to save themselves. When we capture them any whisper of rebellion will die with them"

Her sister nodded at them both, though her gaze wandered to an empty seat beside her. It was no secret who's advice Sansa wanted the most, but they'd all agreed to not mention any of this to Tyrion until he was stronger or he asked them what had happened to Robin and Gawan. Arya's brow furrowed thinking of him - it was strange he hadn't inquired about his captors or Grey Worm. The unsullied captain was still being held in the dungeon under heavy guard where he apparently rarely moved and never spoke. Convincing him of his role in the slave trade Robin and Gawan had been running hadn't been easy, but it appeared to have broken something inside the man. Not that Arya cared, it was because of him Tyrion had been taken in the first place and she blamed him nearly as much as Robin and Gawan for what her brother had suffered.

"There is also the matter of King Bran's visit" said Wolkan "what is your decision, your Grace?"

"I've already sent a raven inviting him to come. He should be here in a little over three weeks" said Sansa, mouth tugging downwards into a frown

"Maester, did you find out when Tyrion's name day is?" asked Arya

"I've done some research, and records show it is in two weeks time"

"Very good" said Sansa "We're all in agreement to not mention his name day to him - I want to surprise him"

"Sounds good to me" said Arya, as Wolkan nodded.

The last thing Sansa needed was to get overly distracted or worried over a rebellion. As far as Arya was concerned it was rumours and nothing more. It pleased her now to see Sansa's focus was where it should have always been; her husband. Tyrion's name day was a good distraction from the horror of Robin and Gawan, and they had plenty of reason to celebrate. Seeing her brother so close to death had terrified Arya - so many of her family was dead or gone already. Hopefully a celebration would boost Tyrion's spirits and show him how loved he was.

"Have you told him Bran's coming?" asked Arya

"Not yet, I'll talk to him about it later. I don't want him to know about Robin or Gawan yet either. Tyrion's not asked and I don't want to worry him"

"Of course, your Grace" said Wolkan "though it may be prudent to tell him before King Bran comes"

"Grey Worm's still in the dungeon too. I know you want to protect Tyrion, but he'll need to know soon or later about what's happening" said Arya

Sansa nodded, though her eyes were sad "You're both right. If he doesn't ask, I'll tell him everything before Bran comes. I'd execute Grey Worm but we may need him as evidence against Gawan and Robin. I hoped we'd have caught them by now and he wouldn't need to worry about them ever again"

"He doesn't need to worry; they're not getting anywhere near him" said Arya, fiddling with needle at her side

"Lord Tyrion's only concern should be his recovery" agreed Maester Wolkan "he's suffered a terrible trauma - that cannot be ignored if he is to heal"

Sansa slumped at Wolkan's words and Arya felt some sympathy with her sister. She'd confided her fears to Arya that Tyrion may never accept her love or affection and she'd done her best to console her older sister. As much as Arya understood why Sansa's behaviour had been so twisted since becoming Queen her remorse alone couldn't wash away what she'd done. It would take time and a lot of patience, but Arya was confident the real Sansa Stark could do it.

* * *

Following the meeting with Arya and Wolkan, Sansa made her way back to her chambers as quickly as she could. Tyrion had been awake when she left and reluctantly she'd left him alone for a few hours. He'd made his choice to stay at Winterfell and Sansa knew she couldn't live her life constantly watching him in case he disappeared. Leaving him alone for a little while would hopefully show Tyrion she trusted him and start to break the idea that this was his prison.

There was much that she needed to discuss with Tyrion. Telling him of Bran's visit was the first thing to do, but she would need to talk to him about their relationship sooner or later. She loved Tyrion, and she knew he cared for her too, but the circumstances of their marriage and the subsequent bedding threatened to drive a permanent wedge between them. It would be a difficult talk - Sansa had no doubt about that. Her biggest fear was driving Tyrion further away to a place where she couldn't reach him.

Sansa was contemplating how to possibly have that much needed talk with Tyrion when voices at the top of the stairs caught her attention. Her footsteps echoed as she made it to the top, while her eyes zeroed in on the source of the voices. Two Winterfell guards with long brown hair were having what appeared to be a heated discussion.

"You ask"

"No way - you're older"

"You spoke to her once before and survived"

"That was different. It's your turn"

The young men didn't seem to notice her approach until she was stood before them, clearing her throat subtly to catch their attention. Immediately they straightened up, looking between each other as if imagining the other's head on a spike. A large, older man wearing a guard's uniform was stood a short distance behind them, shaking his head at their display.

"Good evening" she greeted

"Good evening, your Grace" they chorused, voices trembling

A flash of her childhood swept through her mind, reminding her of the camaraderie and mutual respect her father had shared with the guards and household staff of Winterfell. All she'd achieved was a reign of fear and rebellion.

"Can I help you with anything?" she asked

"Um…no…thank you…your Grace" started one of the men, who she vaguely recognised as the one who had come to her chambers with news of Tyrion

The other looked slightly younger, but they were obviously brothers "we were just…you know"

"I'm afraid I don't know"

Sansa bit her cheek, trying to not show her sadness at their fear of her. The younger one was familiar too - he'd been sitting with Tyrion when he was brought back to Winterfell. Arya knew both of them, but for the life of her Sansa couldn't remember either of their names. The larger man had been stood a little back from them, but now he stepped forwards clamping a hand down on each of them.

"Gods be good - you two are hopeless" he muttered, before turning to her "Pardon us, your Grace we were wondering how lord Tyrion fares?"

The younger men both let out a relieved sigh at their friend's intervention, while the older looking brother turned to her with pleading eyes "We heard he'd suffered a sickness"

"That's true - he was very sick, but he should recover now"

"Good to hear, your Grace" said the larger man, a scruffy dark beard covered most of his face "we was worried for him"

The younger brother nodded, adding quietly "He's our friend"

"Oh" said Sansa, taking in their faces and finding only concern for her husband. It warmed her heart to see that these men cared for Tyrion. When bringing him North she'd worried the Northerners wouldn't accept him, but her fears appeared to be unfounded.

"Sorry to bother you, your Grace" said the large man, bowing his head and tugging at the younger men "Come on lads, we've got a duty to do. Best leave the Queen in peace"

"Wait!" said the younger one, slipping out of his grip to face her once more "Queen Sansa…if you see lord Tyrion will you…maybe…please tell him we miss him…that we're here for him if he needs us"

The young guard looked like a rabbit being hunted as he faced her, but friendship with Tyrion had apparently overcome his fear of her.

"I will tell him" said Sansa, guilt stirring in the pit of her stomach "though much to my embarrassment I fear I'll need to ask the names of his friends"

"Thank you, your Grace. My name's Cayn" said the younger guard, flashing her a smile before pointing to his brother "this is Lyle"

"I'm Brice, your Grace" said the older man, shooting a look at Cayn "Sorry for disturbing you, we'll be on our way"

The three turned to depart, when an idea clicked into place.

"Wait" she called, as they all turned to face her "Is what Cayn said true - you're all friends of my husband?"

"Yes, your Grace. Alec's his friend too, but he's leading the hunt for the ones who took him" said Lyle, as Brice nodded

Sansa's heart swelled with pride that Tyrion had earned such acceptance and loyalty, followed swiftly by shame for not knowing how her husband spent his free time in Winterfell. She knew he went to the practice yard and had been learning to use a sword only because Arya told her – she knew very little of who Tyrion was these days. She had a second chance though; she could make it right.

"Perhaps you would be able to assist me then" said Sansa "There are duties I must attend to as Queen and Tyrion must stay in bed while he heals. I don't want to leave him on his own too much...particularly after what's he suffered. Would any of you want to visit him?"

Sansa didn't want this to be an order, but she hoped having his friends spend time with him might help him recover and lift his spirits. Whatever worries she had faded to nothing as Cayn and Lyle's faces lit up at the suggestion, and Brice grinned at her.

"Yes, your Grace – I think we'd all like to see him" said Brice

"Very good" she said, smiling at the men "I'm sure he'd like some company besides me and Arya"

The guards bowed their thanks and Sansa bid them a good night. It was an unexpected development but the more she thought on it the better the idea seemed. The men had seemed eager to see Tyrion and perhaps having other people to talk to might help him move past what he'd suffered in the Wolfswood.

The door to her chambers came into sight and sweat crept down her spine as she moved down the corridor. The chat with the guards had temporarily distracted her from her main fear; an empty bed. Easing the door open she let out a breath at finding Tyrion sat up in bed engaged in an important chat with Lyon.

"Give me your paw" commanded Tyrion, holding out his right hand

Obediently Lyon's paw rose as well pushing against his outstretched hand.

"Busy night?" asked Sansa, stepping into her chambers

Her husband was grinning as he looked up at her "Sansa, you need to see this!"

Her heart fluttered at the excitement in his voice and she halted her entrance to see what he wanted to show her.

Tyrion looked the wolf straight in the eyes as he spoke "Lyon – find Sansa"

The wolf tilted its head to one side before ambling off the bed and coming to her feet, his head twisting back to see his master's approval.

"Hello" said Sansa, reaching down to scratch behind his ears – not that the wolf had any interest in her attention.

"Good boy" said Tyrion "now return"

Immediately Lyon bolted from Sansa and scrambled back onto the bed beside Tyrion, brushing against him for attention which Tyrion quickly gave. There was something about seeing her husband with his direwolf that warmed her heart – particularly after his initial reluctance towards the creature.

"Well, I see you've been busy" said Sansa, climbing onto her side of the bed next to Tyrion, who was now tickling Lyon's stomach as the wolf lay on his back – eagerly claiming his reward for following orders.

"I thought Lyon may need some training" said Tyrion, the corners of his mouth turning upwards

"What've you been teaching him?" she asked, keen to keep conversing with him

"Basic things – lie down, stand up, give me your paw and find Sansa"

"How did you teach him to find me?"

At that her husbands face grew red "Oh...I may have encouraged him to sniff your pillow to get your scent. It's possible he got overenthusiastic"

Sansa glanced at the pillow before raising an eyebrow at him "You'd have me believe this drool is Lyon's and not yours?"

"If that was my drool on your pillow you'd know about it - I produce far more than he does"

"I'll take your word for it. He's very clever to learn so much so quickly"

"Direwolves are an intelligent species..." he started, before stopping himself "I'm sorry, you had a direwolf and lost her – of course you know what brilliant creatures they are"

The smile dropped from his face as though guilty of enjoying his new friend. Sansa still missed Lady, but it had been many years ago and she wanted Tyrion to love his direwolf. For a moment she'd seen a glimmer of the old Tyrion, but before her eyes he was retreating back into his shell.

"Lady was obedient but she still needed more training than Lyon. You'll have to show Arya – she was hopeless at training Nymeria" said Sansa, leaning closer to him in the bed

"Perhaps" he said quietly, still stroking the wolf's fur

It hurt to see his defences going up again - training Lyon had obviously consumed him for the past few hours, distracting him from whatever darkness plagued his mind. Now the melancholy descended on him once more, extinguishing the brief excitement he'd had. At the very least, Sansa had a little more hope that in time he could heal - though it would certainly take more than a night. Even now Tyrion looked exhausted as he sat next to her, and no matter what he said Sansa knew his injuries must be paining him.

"I ran into some of your friends on my way back" she said, trying to draw him back into a conversation "Three men called Cayn, Lyle and Brice"

"Oh"

"They were worried about you. They asked me to let you know they miss you and are here if you need them"

Tyrion fiddled with the sling holding his arm in place "That was kind of them"

"I thought it might be nice if they came to see you" she continued "You won't be able to leave the bed for a while, but there's no reason you can't see your friends"

"I'm sure they have better things to do" he mumbled "I'm hardly exciting company"

Sansa swallowed, reaching across and clasping Tyrion's right hand, gently guiding it from the bandages he was fiddling with "I love your company. When you were gone everything seemed wrong without you"

Tyrion said nothing, but his eyes appeared far away as she gripped his hand.

"The main reason I wanted you in the North was so you'd be close to me" she said

"You wanted me to help you rebuild it - I fear I haven't done much on that count"

_'If only you knew you're the one stopping a rebellion against me'_ she thought, warring with her decision to not tell him what was going on.

"That's not true. You're an excellent lord of Winterfell" she said instead

Looking at his pale face she hardened her resolve - he wasn't ready yet, and he hadn't asked her anything about Robin, Gawan or Grey Worm since he was brought back. They lapsed into silence, and Sansa continued gripping his hand - unsure how to continue. There was so much that needed to be said, but it couldn't all be fixed in a single conversation - maybe not a single lifetime.

"Tyrion" she started, rubbing her thumb over his hand "I know you don't want to talk about what happened to you in the Wolfswood - but I think you need to. If not to me then talk to Arya or your friends or someone; but please don't try to push it away. I've tried that myself and all it did was turn me to ice inside, blinding me to the truth of what I was becoming"

"I'm sorry for what you suffered" said Tyrion, finally looking at her "I'm truly sorry Sansa. I'd do anything to change what happened to you"

"If I could change what happened to you, I would too" she said, lifting his hand and kissing it "but we can't - all we can do is pick up the pieces"

Green eyes shining with fear turned to her "I don't know how Sansa. There are so many pieces…"

"Then we'll pick them up together" she promised, as his haunted eyes turned back to Lyon lying across his lap

_'Yours and mine'_ she thought _'I won't leave you alone to face your pain. Never again'_

* * *

It was two days after he arrived at Winterfell that lord Karlon Mazin was preparing to ride back to Ramsgate. Sansa stood with Arya in the courtyard to see him off as he swung onto his horse. The young lord wanted nothing to do with her and had remained mostly in the guest room until him and his horse were rested enough to return home.

"I thank you again my lord for the support of your house and for bringing this matter to my attention" said Sansa

"My father and I refused their offer of rebellion against you out of respect for lord Tyrion and nothing more" he said, a scowl curving across his face

"I understand" said Sansa, tugging her cloak tighter around her against the cold "House Mazin's loyalty will not be forgotten"

"As you say, your Grace"

Sansa fought back a sigh - the young man would not believe her words. Not that he had any reason to. His family's loyalty to the Starks had cost him two older brothers and left their house forgotten as she focused her attention on the major houses. This time it would be different. This time she wouldn't forget.

"Lord Mazin, does your father intend to send any reply to the Dreadfort?" asked Arya

"Yes, he will send a refusal when I return"

Arya nodded "Good. We're going to send people to the Dreadfort on the off chance Robin or Gawan are waiting for the reply there"

"I hope you catch those bastards" he grunted "the girl from Ramsgate they were going to sell into slavery is only young. I hear she's still traumatised from the experience - one of my guard's daughters"

"I'm truly sorry for her suffering" said Sansa "but you can tell her the guilty will be punished and slavery will not be tolerated in the North"

"Aye. From what I heard, that girl was one of the last to escape and one of their men caught hold of her in the Wolfswood. Lord Tyrion freed her and stayed behind to fight. For his sake and all the girls who suffered I wish you success against them"

Sansa stepped forwards; lifting a letter sealed with the Direwolf sigil towards the young lord "This letter is for your father - would you mind delivering it to him?"

Lord Mazin gazed at the letter for a moment before accepting it "As the Queen commands"

"Thank you, my lord" said Sansa, stepping back as the young man urged his horse forwards and out of the gate.

Despite Arya and Maester Wolkan's assurances that a rebellion would not happen, Sansa couldn't shake the fear that they weren't safe. Wrapping her arms around herself, Sansa watched the retreating form of lord Mazin. Her indifference to the people she swore to protect could plunge the North into civil war.

_'Father, what would you do?'_

* * *

Tyrion grimaced at the sight of the long scar that curved downwards across his chest and ribs.

"It's healing well, my lord. Another week perhaps and you may not need the bandages to cover it" said Wolkan

"Wait till Lyle sees, he'll be so jealous" chirped Cayn as the young man sat on the chair beside the bed

"Why on Earth would he be jealous?" said Tyrion

"He thinks he's a hard man cause he's got a scar like this big on the back of his leg" said Cayn holding his thumb and finger about an inch apart "You've easily got him beat with that"

"Would he like to swap? I have plenty he can choose from"

"You're looking at this all wrong - in the North scars say how tough you are"

"Hmm, and here I thought they said; you're not as clever as you once thought"

"No way! Besides Northern ladies love a tough man - ask the Queen" insisted Cayn, as Wolkan finished wrapping the bandages around his chest once more

Tyrion rolled his eyes "Yes - that would surely go well. If Sansa loves tough men she married the wrong man"

"I don't know Tyrion, word of your daring deeds has spread far and wide across the North" said Cayn, nudging him with a grin "Just yesterday I had to break a young maiden's heart by refusing to sneak her in here to see you"

Heat crept up Tyrion's neck at what his friend was saying "A likely story - I'm sure you were there to console the poor girl"

Cayn shrugged "I tried but she only had eyes for you"

Tyrion had been reluctant to let his friends see him, particularly after they'd found him in the Wolfswood. They'd seen him at one of the lowest points in his life where he'd been utterly broken and humiliated - he hadn't wanted to see the disgust in their eyes. Sansa had insisted on letting them visit and for the past few days a different friend had come to see him. Yesterday Lyle had come and updated him on what he was missing in the practice yard, while Brice had visited the day before and told him tales of the wars he'd fought in and complained about the clueless green boys playing at war in the villages. Today Cayn had come to see him and the Maester had arrived not long after to check his injuries. Whatever fears he'd had of the men scorning him had quickly disappeared. Much to his surprise they all seemed eager to see him and had quickly brushed aside his words that they needn't bother. He was their friend, they insisted, that's what friends do.

"The slash on your arm has healed enough that the dressing is no longer needed, my lord" said Wolkan, prodding the area on his upper arm now marred by a vicious scar.

"Do you think Lyle wants this one too?" asked Tyrion

"He's an attention whore - he'd have them all if he could" said Cayn

"That's funny; he says the same about you"

"You know I'm right"

Despite his reservations Tyrion found he enjoyed these visits with his friends. As much as he appreciated Sansa's continued fussing over him, communicating with her was never as easy as talking to the men or even Arya. It was a different relationship, he realised. Sansa told him every day she loved him and her actions gave no indication she was lying, but her affection towards him caused him guilt all the same. He was broken, damaged and his heart was in tatters.

_'She could do better than you'_ whispered his inner sceptic _'her love is only pity for the poor dwarf who got hurt'_

Tyrion was trying his hardest to not listen to that dark voice anymore - the voice that had so nearly led him out of Winterfell and away from Sansa. Instead he tried to find the flicker of hope hiding within him. He had to try. Choosing to stay at Winterfell had been his choice, and now he needed to try to be the man Sansa deserved - however hopeless it seemed.

"Tyrion" called Cayn, drawing him from his thoughts "why doesn't Lyon like me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look" said Cayn, turning his attention to the golden direwolf sat across the room from the bed "Lyon, here!"

The wolf's ears pricked up at the sound of his name, but he made no move to go to Cayn.

"I think he's confusing me with Lyle you know" said Cayn, crossing his arms "I carried him back to Winterfell - I though we bonded"

"That's unlikely" said Wolkan, moving his attention to Tyrion's ankle "direwolves are intelligent creatures - he would not have confused you with your brother"

"You're not that similar anyway" said Tyrion "I could always tell you apart"

"You're a clever sod though. Even Mother still confuses us"

Tyrion straightened up in the bed, his body creaking sorely at the movement. Some meagre strength was returning to him, but he still needed help to do nearly everything.

"Watch and learn" said Tyrion, holding his right hand towards the wolf "Lyon!"

Immediately the direwolf shot across the room and clambered up beside Tyrion, pushing against his hand with a small bark.

"Show off" said Cayn, ruffling the wolf's fur "Don't you remember me Lyon? I thought we were friends"

Lyon merely cocked his head to one side before gazing at Tyrion once more

"Yes, he's a friend" Tyrion told him "You don't need to bite his fingers off"

The wolf's ears drooped at the news and Cayn leaned back from him.

"I know it's disappointing" continued Tyrion, stroking his back "I'm sure there'll be other fingers to bite in the future"

"Dunno what's creepier - you talking to Lyon like he understands you, or the fact he actually understands you"

Tyrion eyebrows rose "Oh, he thinks we're creepy Lyon. How many fingers do you think that will cost?"

Cayn tilted back in the chair as Lyon jumped on him, licking at his face.

"Lyon! I don't need a bath" protested Cayn, grappling with the wolf

"I wouldn't be so sure" muttered Wolkan

Tyrion grinned at his friend "You did want his attention Cayn"

* * *

Sansa had been pretending to sleep for several hours when Tyrion began squirming in his sleep beside her. Worry for the North was a constant strain on her mind, haunting her throughout the night as it did during the day. But that paled in comparison to her worry over Tyrion's welfare; he was her priority – always. He made no sound but the moonlight creeping in through the window illuminated the tightness of his face as he twisted beside her. Things were marginally improving between them. While Tyrion was still withdrawn and reluctant to accept her affection, they did speak more - if only about trivial things. Reaching out she stroked his cheek shuffling closer to him in the bed.

"Shh, you're ok Tyrion" she said, as he shuddered next to her

Tyrion needed a lot of rest at the moment, which meant he often slept through much of the day and night. Sansa had taken to doing some small pieces of work from their chambers and her own sleepless nights meant she was no longer a stranger to the nightmares that haunted him. He never cried out or made any noise but his body would tense and shake while his mind was trapped in a dream. Over the past few days she'd found stroking his face or whispering reassurances would sometimes soothe him back to sleep, but occasionally he would wake up in a panic. When that happened she would always ask if he wanted to talk about it, hoping he might confide in her. So far she'd had little success, with Tyrion politely declining her offers and apologising for disturbing her.

His face contorted into a look of horror and Sansa propped herself up in the bed, running her hand down his face.

"Tyrion" she called "wake up"

A few moments passed before his eyes shot open. His chest heaving as he drew in short shuddering breaths "Sansa?"

"I'm here" she said "You're safe"

"Sorry" he said, glancing around their dark chambers "did I wake you?"

"No, I was awake"

It must have been a particularly bad dream. Tyrion's face was pale in the moonlight, and she lowered her hand to his chest where his heart thudded quickly against her fingertips.

"That seemed like a bad dream" she said "it might help to talk about it"

"It's not very pleasant"

Indecision tore across his face, and Sansa's heart leapt that he hadn't outright refused. Deciding to push him a little further, she snuggled close to his broken side, wrapping her left arm carefully around his waist as she dropped her head next to his ear. She didn't want to make Tyrion uncomfortable but she hated the look of fear on his face when he had nightmares - she wanted to comfort him. He didn't protest her embrace as his breathing grew steady once more.

"You can tell me anything" she coaxed, feeling the tension in his body

Tyrion turned his face away from her and she feared that was the end of the conversation, but much to her surprise he began to speak.

"I was in the wolfswood - in the stables" he said quietly "Gawan was crouching over me with a knife, humming the rains of Castamere. He wanted me to tell him, but I wouldn't. I was in chains; I couldn't move"

Sansa said nothing but rubbed her hand over Tyrion's side, letting him know she was here; he was safe.

"He took the knife and ran it over my breeches. He said he'd have to take extreme measures…" Tyrion trailed off, his voice dropping to almost a whisper "he said he'd cut off my…cock and balls… and send them to you as a wedding gift. He pushed the knife into the laces of my breeches. I could feel the tip of the knife pricking my skin - it was so cold. One thrust and I'd never…be whole again"

"It was just a dream" she said, drawing Tyrion tightly against her "a horrible dream"

Sansa's own heart was pounding at the vivid, terrible nightmare he'd had. No wonder he looked so shaken. Her husband shook his head, refusing to look at her.

"Not a dream" he breathed "a memory"

Sansa's body froze as an icy terror gripped her heart. No. That couldn't be true…it was just a bad dream, wasn't it? One look at Tyrion's frightened face told her it was true. A desperate fear overtook Sansa and she fought the urge to pull Tyrion's breeches down and check everything was there. She took in a deep breath, fighting to control her emotions. They hadn't done it; she'd seen Tyrion naked several times since then. Wolkan had checked him thoroughly. He was fine; he was safe.

"I'm so sorry" she whispered, tightening her hold on him

"If he'd done it, I'd be useless to you" said Tyrion, sucking in a breath "I couldn't give you children"

Was that all he thought he was to her - a means of producing children?

_'Of course he does'_ whispered her mind _'that's how you treated him'_

"If they'd...hurt you like that" she said "it wouldn't have changed anything. I love you – not your ability to produce children"

"Gawan said he'd make me smooth down there" said Tyrion, shuddering in her grasp "he didn't in the end…said I was too disgusting for him to touch. So he cut my face open instead"

Sansa's stomach rolled violently as Tyrion's story sunk in. They'd nearly mutilated her husband; her sweet, kind Tyrion. An image of Theon Greyjoy after the same had been done to him came to mind, and Sansa fought the urge to be sick. Theon had been a broken man after Ramsay was through with him. Only a glimmer of the real Theon had remained at the end. Knowing those monsters had hurt Tyrion at all turned her blood to ice…but the idea of doing _that_ to him.

"They're monsters" she said, nuzzling her face against his neck "what they did to you was inhuman, but you're safe now. Do you have that dream often?"

Tyrion nodded, though he still wouldn't look at her "Sometimes it changes from what actually happened…sometimes he does it"

They lay silently for a few minutes with Sansa rubbing her hand soothingly down his right side.

"Tyrion…" she said, unsure whether to ask "what did they want you to tell them?"

"I told the women of a hidden path in the Wolfswood…if they found it they might escape. They knew I'd helped the women escape, they wanted to know where they were"

"You wouldn't tell them" she said, a mixture of horror and pride filling her as some pieces came together

"Never told them anything" he said "those girls were innocent. Some as young as Myrcella was the last time I saw her"

His voice broke at the mention of his niece and Sansa leaned closer to him, pressing a long kiss to his damp cheek.

"Is that why they hurt you so badly, my love?"

Tyrion nodded, subtly leaning into her and Sansa decided to not ask any more questions tonight. She'd been desperate for him to confide in her, and he finally had - though the image his words painted was sure to haunt her.

"You're so very brave" she said, gently turning his face to look at her "to sacrifice yourself to save those girls. I'm very proud of you my love"

"I didn't feel brave" he whispered, green eyes shining at her "…I was scared"

Sansa's heart broke at his confession, and she ran her hand through his golden hair "I can't imagine how awful that was for you"

"I was sad too…" he said, glancing at her nervously as though afraid to say whatever he was thinking "When the knife was in my breeches…"

"You can tell me anything" she promised

Tyrion wouldn't meet her eyes as he mumbled "I was sad I might never be a father"

"I thought you didn't want children" she said gently "Would you like to be a father?"

"I don't know" he said, biting his lip "I thought I didn't until the chance was nearly taken from me"

Sansa's heart leapt that he wasn't completely opposed to children, but he'd said it so nervously - as if afraid she was going to demand an heir from him immediately. A grimace covered his face, demonstrating his newly conflicted feelings over children and Sansa wondered whether now was the time to apologise for bedding him. She desperately needed to talk to him about it, but perhaps tonight wasn't the right time. His dream had been horrible enough without her reminding him of how she took him in the bed - particularly when he was letting her comfort him.

"You'd be a wonderful father" she told him, stroking the side of his face "I'm so sorry we didn't find you sooner Tyrion"

"Not your fault" he whispered

"You shouldn't have had to suffer any of this"

"It doesn't matter. It's over" he said shaking his head "I'm sorry, I've kept you from sleeping"

"Don't apologise - I'm quite happy lying here with you" she said

The corners of Tyrion's mouth tugged upwards "Thank you…for not leaving me"

"I will never leave you. Why would I?"

Tyrion shifted in her grasp, looking away from her "I never wanted you to see me like this - to see me so weak. I promised to protect you"

"I know you'll protect me - I trust you more than anyone else" she said "but I get to protect you too"

"Do you know where my family put me after the battle of blackwater?" he whispered "My face was split in half - I was unconscious for days. The first thing they did was take the hand of the king badge from me and throw me in a small, dark room so father could have the hand's chambers. I nearly died trying to save the city and do my duty to them - and they threw me away and forgot about me"

A glimmer of understanding came to Sansa as if Tyrion had just handed her a puzzle piece she didn't know she was missing. She'd heard in Kings Landing that Tyrion had suffered an injury and his father had claimed his role as Hand, but at the time she'd cared nothing for their family drama. Now it angered her. It was hard to imagine being hurt so badly and then left alone as if you didn't matter. Was that what he was afraid of? He thought she'd take the opportunity to get rid of him?

"Is that why you didn't want to come home? Arya said you told them to leave you there"

Tyrion drew in on himself, but Sansa merely tightened her grip

"I thought you'd be disgusted by me" he said "I thought I'd let you down"

"Never" she promised, kissing his cheek "Your family were awful to you, weren't they?"

Her husband nodded slightly "Except Jamie. When I woke up in Kings Landing only Podrick helped me. Bronn and Varys visited a couple of times - but father never came to see me. Cersei only came because she heard I was going to talk to father"

"I'm so sorry"

"I don't tell you this because I want your pity" he said, voice breaking "I just want you to know… I am trying. Past experience has made me wary that anything I love can be taken from me - makes me reluctant to get attached"

"I understand" she said as her eyes grew warm "thank you for trusting me"

Tyrion lapsed into silence but Sansa's heart warmed at his words. While he hadn't said it outright, it was clear to her what he meant - and his care for her meant everything.

"Can I hold you while you sleep?" she asked, noting the tiredness in his face "It might help you sleep better"

Her husband nodded warily and Sansa adjusted her grip so she wouldn't aggravate his injuries.

"Good night Sansa" he whispered, tilting his head away from her as his eyes closed

"Sleep well, my love" she said "You're safe; you're home"

Sansa lay awake long after Tyrion fell asleep in her arms. She'd longed for him to talk about what he'd endured during his imprisonment, but she'd never imagined the depths of the horror. The idea of being sent Tyrion's severed manhood…

It had taken time and patience, but they'd made a start in healing. Sansa carefully filed away the information she'd learned tonight. The time for vengeance would come and every hurt inflicted on her husband would be paid back tenfold. Until then she would continue taking care of Tyrion, hoping he would continue to open up to her.

* * *

Bran smiled reading the reply from Sansa. Much like his own it spared no empty words, but the words it did contain gave him reason to smile.

"Is that a genuine smile, your Grace or one that means some type of disaster is coming?"

"I'd say genuine"

"You're going North, aren't you?" said Ser Davos with a sigh

"It appears so"

"When will you leave?"

"In five days time. Give these instructions to the smith with regards to Ser Jamie's sword and have it sent on to Winterfell" said Bran, passing the letter to his hand

"Very good, your Grace. Can I ask who's going with you?"

"You will accompany me"

"As you say, your Grace"

"As will Ser Podrick, Ser Brienne and the master of coin. We'll bring a small number of guards as well"

Bran watched the despair that crossed the older man's face at the news of his travelling companions.

"I suspect this will be an eventful journey" said Davos, reaching for the wine on the table between them "Starting to see why lord Tyrion drinks so much"

"Used to - he hasn't touched wine since he left Kings Landing" said Bran "I fear being my hand is rather a cruel punishment"

"It's a great honour" said Davos "I'm not sure I'm the right man for it truth be told"

"You were the only man for it after Sansa took my first choice"

"I'm still flattered to be your second choice, your Grace"

Ser Davos might not have been his first choice, but he was a good hand. It had taken some getting used to and the small council were prone to bickering, but Bran was satisfied everyone was in the right place.

"Dare I ask who's going to be in charge while we venture North?"

"Sam is Grand Maester - he will keep the six kingdoms together in our absence"

"Good thing you're bringing lord Bronn with us. Can you imagine leaving him in charge?"

"For all I can see, that's one thing I'd rather not"

Their trip North wasn't truly necessary, but Bran suspected it was needed. Besides it had been a long time since he saw his family. Arya would be excited to see him, and Bran had yet to greet Tyrion as his new brother. Sansa was the only concern. Her decisions could yet prove disastrous for the North, and her mistreatment of Tyrion annoyed him - he'd trusted her after all.

"Would you like to break the news to the small council, or should I?"

"Might be better coming from you, your Grace" said Ser Davos, leaning back in the chair "I'm going to have to find my heavy clothes again. Did I mention its bloody cold up North, and I'm getting old?"

"It's only cold if you're not a Northerner"


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N - This chapter only covers half of what I wanted it to, but it was getting too big. Let me know if you're still enjoying this story!**

* * *

**Chapter 23**

Sat in her favourite chair by the hearth, Sansa continued to stare at the letter in her hands - her mind focused on the conversation across the room.

"Lyon's cute" giggled Nessa

"Say hello to Nessa"

A little bark sounded and the corners of Sansa's mouth twitched upwards. She'd insisted to Tyrion that he let his friends visit him and she knew it had been the right choice, however reluctant he'd been at first. Fatigue continued to drag Tyrion to sleep throughout the day, but when he was awake she'd found visits with his friends distracted him from the melancholy that otherwise hung around him. The night before, Tyrion had told Sansa of the nightmare he'd suffered, which proved to be a memory. Her stomach still twisted at the thought of her husband being butchered in such a manner.

Glancing across the room, she could see Tyrion and Nessa chatting happily as he introduced his squire to Lyon. She liked seeing him so engaged and cheerful even if it was only temporary. She'd found over the days following his illness Tyrion was prone to moods. Sometimes he was more willing to converse with her and accept her affection, yet other times he would retreat completely. When that happened, Sansa could see his mind was far away and several times she'd considered pushing him for his thoughts. Rather than push him before he was ready she'd sit quietly next to him - a reminder she was here if he needed her. Things were slowly improving, although her husband still often looked out of place in his home, regardless of her gentle reminders this was where he belonged.

"When you're better are you going to bring Lyon to see mother and Ethan?" asked Nessa

"Do you think they'd want to see him?"

"Yes! Direwolves are magical"

Tyrion laughed "Don't tell Lyon that, there'll be no living with him if he thinks he's magical"

Reluctantly, Sansa turned away from the scene. The girl was still wary of her, but relaxed instantly with Tyrion. Seeing them together filled her with a strange loss. Her red flower had been several days late, and fear had wound through Sansa that she was pregnant. When her monthly blood arrived this morning a mixture of relief and sadness had stirred in her heart. She'd always wanted to be a mother and a few weeks ago she was willing to do anything necessary to take a child from Tyrion. Now the thought of having a child conceived through the vile means she'd used sent a shudder down her spine. How could she expect Tyrion to look at his child without relieving the pain she'd caused him to produce one?

Sansa had already resolved to never repeat the act again after seeing how hurt he was the last time she forcibly joined with him. What he'd suffered since then had only strengthened that commitment and filled her with shame for doing it in the first place. Her mother had spoken of the night she conceived Robb with such fondness - she wanted the same for them. Sansa was well aware Tyrion would likely never want to join with her in the marriage bed after her treatment of him and she would never force him again. She'd come to terms with the idea that her life would be childless; but at least she'd have Tyrion. That was enough for her - it was still more than she deserved.

She bit her lip hearing the quiet voices chatting away at the bed. Despite her resolve her heart ached at the prospect of never being a mother. She knew Tyrion would be a great father and last night he'd admitted his sadness at the option nearly being taken from him. Tyrion had looked so confused when he confessed that to her; as if afraid she was going to climb on top of him then and there. They desperately needed to talk about it, but the time never seemed right. Telling her of Gawan's cruelty last night had been a big step for him - a sign that he trusted her even a little to share something so deeply disturbing. Her mind kept coming up with excuses to delay the conversation they needed to have; most centred around driving Tyrion away from her once more, but he needed to know there was nothing to fear from her ever again.

_'Don't worry Tyrion. You're safe'_ she thought_ 'I'll protect you from all the monsters - even me'_

* * *

When Tyrion peeled open his eyes it was to find an unexpected face sat at his bedside.

"Alec?" he said groggily

"Been awhile hasn't it?" said the captain of the Winterfell guard, smiling at him

Clumsily Tyrion fumbled with his right hand to push himself upwards in the bed, once again cursing the sling that immobilised his left.

"Need a hand?" said Alec

"No, I'm fine" said Tyrion, determined to do it himself

It took longer than Tyrion wanted but he eventually managed to prop himself upright against the headboard, though the effort had tired him already. Glancing around the chamber he saw no sign of Sansa, and he wondered how long Alec had sat waiting for him to wake up. Much of his days seemed to be spent sleeping unfortunately.

Tyrion turned his attention to Alec. His appearance was a bit more unkempt than usual and his clothes were dusty and travel worn.

"Just got back?" asked Tyrion

"Aye, I would've come to see you sooner otherwise"

"You don't need to see me at all if you don't want"

"We're friends aren't we?" said Alec, eyes studying him

"Yes, we're friends" said Tyrion

"Then why wouldn't I come?"

Tyrion fidgeted with the bandages wrapped around his arm "You saw me in the Wolfswood. You saw how they humiliated me"

"I did" he agreed "there's nothing to be ashamed of though. What they did says everything about them and nothing about you"

Tyrion wasn't entirely sure that was true but he had no desire to reminisce on his experience with them, and decided to change the subject.

"How's your wife?" he asked "I hope she's keeping well"

Alec's face relaxed as he sat back in the chair "She's great. I called to see her before coming to see you"

"You mean I was your second choice?" said Tyrion, mouth turning upwards as he glanced at Alec

"You are. My third choice is a hot bath"

"As long as I'm higher up than Brice" said Tyrion, before rolling his eyes "and yes I realise I'll never be physically higher than Brice"

Alec laughed "It's good to see you"

"You too. I've been inundated with visits from my friends" he said, voice growing quiet "most unexpected really"

"I'd get used to it Tyrion. You'll know no peace until you're back on your feet in the practice yard"

A wave of sadness swept through Tyrion "I don't think I can"

"Why not?"

"Look at the state of me – I can barely sit up" he said, frustration growing in his voice "Sansa's only just stopped having to feed me, my ankle is snapped, wrist and hand are in pieces and they..."

Tyrion trailed off, clamping his mouth shut before anything else spilled out. It was true his continued weakness was bothering him more and more. No matter what Sansa said he hated being a burden to her or being reliant on anyone for that matter.

"and they what?" asked Alec, mouth set in a firm line

"You know what they did"

"No, I only saw the end result"

Tyrion squirmed under his friends gaze. What hadn't they done to him? They'd beaten, humiliated and branded him.

"You don't have to tell me what happened, but I'm here if you want to" said Alec, leaning forward to grip his shoulder

"Thank you" said Tyrion "maybe someday..."

Alec nodded in understanding "Don't worry about your injuries either – there's ways to adapt your sword fighting if they prove an issue"

"You seem quite certain that I'll return to the practice yard"

"Of course you will, your friends won't let you give up. Besides you like learning – you're too curious to give up on something you're interested in"

"That's true. My curiosity has proven rather troublesome"

* * *

Piles and piles of letters.

They spread from one end of Arya's room to the next, though most centred on the desk.

"Please don't tell me you actually read and answered all these letters yourself?" asked Arya, tilting in her chair to find her sister hidden behind a pile of correspondence

The Queen didn't answer, continuing to stare at a letter before her. Even from a distance Arya could see Sansa wasn't reading it.

"Ignore me then" muttered Arya, turning her attention from her sister

Following lord Mazin's warning that Robin Flint was attempting a rebellion, Arya had thrown herself into finding any clues as to what they might do next. Her first step – which she regretted immensely – was to go through her sister's correspondence. The Queen in the North was meticulous in her work, and for reasons that Arya had no desire to understand kept every single letter she received. This had resulted in Arya spending most of her waking hours shifting through the correspondence to identify any houses that Sansa had ignored – these were the ones most likely to be targeted by Robin and Gawan after all. While her sister was now devoting the majority of her time to Tyrion, she had taken a break today to assist Arya in her search.

A search that was coming up empty.

The Queen kept records of each house and brief details of their correspodence with her, including replies and dates. Even looking at Sansa's organised ruling method, made Arya want to poke holes in all the letters. How could anyone live this way and remain sane? No wonder her sister had been so stressed the past few months – to make things worse she'd been doing it nearly all alone.

"Sansa" she called "Why do we have a Maester?"

Her sister drew her gaze up from Arya's, brow furrowing "What?"

"Why do we have a Maester?"

"Maester's keep records, write correspondence, give advice and they have medical training" explained Sansa as if Arya had lost her senses

"I like Wolkan. Do you?"

"Yes, he's a good Maester – a decent man"

"Good" said Arya, nodding her head "then why don't you trust him to handle some of your work? Surely you don't need to personally keep records of all this shit?"

"Language" said Sansa on reflex "I'm the Queen – I need to do this myself"

"Because you don't trust anyone else"

"That's not true – I trust you and Tyrion"

"Both excellent choices" she agreed "but Sansa, you're running a kingdom yourself when you have people to help you. Do you think Bran is handling everything himself in Kings Landing? No – he has Davos and a small council"

Sansa sighed, rolling her head "What are you saying Arya? I'm in no mood for games"

"I'm saying – you need help. You need a proper council of people you trust to help you with all this"

"There lies the problem. I don't trust anyone but you and Tyrion"

"What about Maester Wolkan? He could help you with all of this record keeping. Alec is the head of the Winterfell guard and he's a good man – add him to your council. Lord Cerwyn and Lady Tallhart are our friends, you know they'd help"

"I can't take that risk" said Sansa, curling her hand closed "I trusted Robin and Gawan and look what happened"

"That wasn't your fault"

"This is all my fault and we both know it" snapped Sansa, snatching another letter of the pile and turning her attention from Arya

_'You can't poke a hole in your sister'_ Arya told herself _'however tempting she makes it'_

The sister's lapsed into silence and the younger Stark continued her search through the correspondence. She'd spoken to lord Mazin before he departed and the young lord had struggled to hide his contempt for the Queen. While she did not doubt he was telling the truth, Arya was struggling to find any correspondence from house Mazin at all. Something didn't add up, but there was still heaps more letters to go through. It would take days if not weeks to do a thorough search.

Turning her gaze to Sansa, Arya noted she was once more pretending to read a letter.

"What's wrong Sansa?" she said "we both know you're not reading that"

The Queen slumped in her chair, fiddling with her hands "Do you think Tyrion is afraid of me?"

"Why would you think that?"

"He never seems completely comfortable around me" she said, turning her gaze to the table "It's like he expects me to suddenly turn on him"

"Have you apologised to him yet?"

"I've apologised for..."

"For raping him?"

Sansa's expression grew tight "No...I need to, it just never seems the right time"

"He deserves an apology at least"

"I know" she sighed "he deserves a lot more, but I don't want to scare him away. He's starting to trust me"

"You just said he's not completely comfortable around you"

"I mean he's better than he was"

Arya tapped her fingers on the table. Sansa was very smart, but for some reason her wits deserted her when it came to her husband. It was hard to compare the Sansa before her now to the emotional girl she'd once been – the years had been cruel to her; and somewhere along the way she'd detached from her emotions. As far as Arya was concerned the situation with Tyrion was fairly obvious. He had very little self-esteem and had lost the sense of identity he'd always clung to. Everything was new and unfamiliar to him, including his place in their family. His insecurities could be dealt with in time, but Sansa had to confront her own crimes against him.

"Sansa, if you want Tyrion to trust you completely it will take a long time. You've seen how insecure he is right now"

"I know – I just don't want him to be nervous around me. I'm his wife; I can help him"

Arya's heart twisted at the pain and remorse spread across Sansa's face "You know how to start fixing that"

"I need to apologise"

Arya nodded "You do – he needs to know that won't happen again"

"It won't" said Sansa, expression darkening "Never again"

"Good. Are you going to actually read any letters now?"

Her sister's gaze moved to the door "Maybe I should check on him"

"He's fine" said Arya, rolling her eyes "He's probably trying to teach Lyon to read or something"

"Tyrion loves him" said Sansa, a bitter smile crossing her face "I think he trusts Lyon more than me"

"Well you know how to fix that" said Arya, lounging back in her chair "If you're really jealous, I can ask Tyrion to scratch you behind the ears every once in a while"

"You're impossible" huffed Sansa, a tinge of red colouring her cheeks

"You're not actually jealous of Lyon? Gods, Sansa..."

"He fell asleep the other night curled around Lyon" said Sansa, eyes sparking with fondness "it was adorable but-"

"You want him to curl around you" finished Arya, rolling her eyes "You need to earn his trust – you can't demand it"

"I know. I feel awful though – I'm his wife and he finds no comfort with me"

"Give him a reason to then" said Arya "and if you can't..."

"If I can't?" said Sansa, unspoken fear covering her face

"If you can't then try and negotiate a custody agreement with Lyon. You get Tyrion for so many hours a day and Lyon gets the rest. Be prepared though – if Tyrion's been teaching him it'll be a tough negotiation and-"

Arya ducked as her sister's ink pot flew over her head.

"That wasn't very Queen like" said Arya, grinning at her sister "and you missed"

"Did I?"

Arya turned to see the ink had splattered all over her Valyrian steel dagger – and most of the bedding.

"Sansa!"

The Queen rose from her chair, face betraying nothing "I'll leave you to clean up. The servants know you don't like anyone entering your chambers, but I'll remind them all the same"

"This is cruel – you know I hate cleaning"

"Do you?" said Sansa, mouth twitching upwards "I'd stay and help, but as you pointed out I have negotiations to make"

* * *

The ever growing look of despair on Tyrion's face was breaking Sansa's heart, but her husband was refusing to do anything about it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go look for him?" she asked, moving from her desk to sit on the edge of the bed beside her husband

Tyrion was fiddling with his lion blanket when she sat down "No, its fine. If Lyon wants to come back he will"

"He'll come back" she said, hoping her words were true

As soon as their chamber door had opened this morning, the golden direwolf had shot past the startled servant and out into the corridor. Tyrion had tried to recall his friend to no avail and her husband had grown increasingly anxious as the day progressed.

"Direwolves aren't meant to live indoors" he said, voice heavy "Lyon was getting bigger – it's for the best he's gone back to the wild"

"He's probably just hunting" said Sansa "he'll come back afterwards. All our wolves did the same"

Truth be told Sansa was suprised the direwolf hadn't gone outside sooner. The little creature hadn't left Tyrion's side since they met and her husband had somehow trained him to do his business in a box in the corner of the room. Food and water was brought to their chambers for the wolf every day, but his instincts were to hunt - when he grew bigger he would need more food. Despite her reassurances to Tyrion, doubt gnawed at Sansa. Lyon was rather unusual. He was clearly a direwolf and as Tyrion pointed out he had grown marginally bigger, but he didn't seem as large or powerful as their direwolves had been at that age. If anything he reminded Sansa of Ghost – a loner. When they'd all been together in Winterfell, the Stark wolves had often hunted as a pack, with Ghost the outsider of the group.

Considering his initial reluctance towards the creature, Tyrion had grown very attached to Lyon. From what Sansa could see, the wolf was one of the few things that brought him joy and her husband was at his happiest showing her what tricks Lyon had learned. Several hours had passed since the wolf left and Tyrion's worry for his friend had turned to sadness; as if his last friend had rejected him. She'd offered to go and find Lyon or to send someone out in search of the wolf but Tyrion had refused, saying if Lyon wanted to go he wouldn't keep him here.

"Is there anything in particular you'd like me to read to you?" she asked, moving from the bed towards her bookshelf

Tyrion's eyebrows quirked up "Read?"

"Yes, my love. I'm going to read to you"

"You don't need to do that Sansa. I though you had work to do"

"I'm taking a break" she said, finding a book on Northern heroes and climbing into her side of the bed next to her husband

"Sansa – you needn't bother. I may be rather feeble, but I can still read"

"You can" she agreed, settling against him "but I would like to read to my husband"

Tyrion relented, leaning against the headboard as she opened the book. There wasn't much he could do at the moment given the fatigue that frequently dragged him off to sleep. Some of his strength was returning, but it would take weeks, possibly months for him to recover fully. She'd offered to read to him many times since he returned to Winterfell and he always declined, but today she wouldn't take no for an answer. The sadness across his face at the prospect of losing Lyon was too much to bear. The little wolf had quickly become his closest companion, but Sansa wanted Tyrion to know he could rely on her too – she would never leave him.

As she read, Tyrion's interest picked up and he leaned into her to see some of the accompanying pictures. Sansa gladly obliged, laying the heavy tome across their laps. Sansa was fairly certain Tyrion had read this book before, but he listened attentively nonetheless. At the very least it had temporarily distracted him from his missing friend and given her an excuse to spend some time with him.

When they reached the end Tyrion turned to her, forcing a smile "Thank you Sansa, you didn't need to do that"

"Anytime" she said "I like spending time with you"

Time had flown by as they read and there was still no sign of Lyon. Sansa bit her lip, glancing at her dejected husband. He was trying to hide it, but Sansa could see the worry in his eyes for his missing friend. Losing Lyon would crush him, and she wasn't sure he could take another setback at the moment. She was about to offer to search for Lyon again when a tentative knock sounded on the door.

"Who's there?" called Sansa, straightening up in the bed

It certainly wasn't Arya; who would have barged in, and the knock was too nervous to be the servants or guards.

"It's Nessa" came the timid reply

"Come in Nessa" called Tyrion

The door creaked open and the little girl entered, followed by a familiar golden wolf. Lyon sauntered into the room, heading to his bowl of water as if he hadn't been the cause of his master's distress all day.

"Lyon!" said Tyrion, face lighting up at his direwolf

The little creature barked in greeting before returning to his drink.

"Tyrion, why was Lyon outside?" asked Nessa, taking quick steps towards him

A large parcel was balanced precariously in her skinny arms, which she slid onto the chair at the bedside

"He ran out this morning and I haven't seen him since. I thought he'd left me" said Tyrion, eyes following his wolf

Nessa shook his head "I saw him trying to get into Winterfell through a side gate but it was shut. When I opened it he followed me up here"

"I told you he wouldn't leave" said Sansa, smiling at the relief on her husband's face

"I never considered doors might prove a problem for him" said Tyrion, tilting his head thoughtfully "Lyon, here!"

The wolf darted from his drink and clambered onto the bed, pushing against Tyrion.

"Have you been hunting? I thought you weren't coming back" said Tyrion, stroking his fur

"The door was all scratched" said Nessa "I think he'd been there a while"

"I'd let you in and out myself but I can't at the moment" Tyrion told the wolf "I suppose you'll need to hunt again though"

An idea came to Sansa and she reached across to ruffle the wolf's fur, smiling at Nessa "Maybe your squire could help?"

"I'll help" she said eagerly, bright eyes gazing at Tyrion "What can I do?"

Her husband appeared to have picked up on Sansa's idea, asking Nessa "Are you comfortable with Lyon?"

"He's cute" she said, reaching her hand out to Lyon which he eagerly bumped his nose against

"Would you mind taking him out to hunt? I'll let the rest of Winterfell know too so if they see Lyon they'll open the gates for him" said Sansa

Tyrion turned to Nessa, face serious "Stay close to the castle. If Lyon wanders off, just let him go"

"I will" she said "He's clever, he won't get lost"

Her husband turned his attention to Lyon "You need to keep an eye on Nessa too, understand? Don't let anything happen to her"

Green eyes stared at Tyrion, before he licked at his master's face.

"More training required?" asked Sansa, watching her husband wipe at the drool

"Apparently so"

The little girl turned to leave before her eyes fell on the large package she'd discarded on the chair "Oh, Tyrion! I nearly forgot, this is for you"

Nessa handed the parcel up to Tyrion, her husband pulling it onto his lap.

"What is it?" he asked, brow furrowing

The little girl beamed up at him "Esther asked me to give it to you. I met Lyon on the way up here"

"Thank you Nessa" said Tyrion, nodding at his squire "Will you come here in the morning to take Lyon out?"

"I will" she promised, reaching up to pat the wolf's back "Bye Tyrion! Bye Lyon!"

The girl glanced at the Queen, as if debating whether to say goodbye to her as well. In the end Nessa gave her a little wave before hurrying out the door. Lyon sniffed at the package before jumping off the bed and moving towards the hearth.

"He leaves me all day, and doesn't have the decency to apologise?" grumbled Tyrion

"I know you missed him" said Sansa, leaning closer to Tyrion in the bed "at least he's back now"

"Do you think I could train him to open doors?"

"I'm still not sure how you trained him to do his business in a box"

"Hmm, it's a problem to solve"

Sansa's gaze softened at her husband's happy expression. The reputation he'd earned over the years and his clever mind was enough to make Tyrion seem dangerous to many people - painting him like a cunning monster from a fairy tale. That's not what Sansa saw though. Through the time she'd spent caring for Tyrion, she'd discovered a well hidden innocence in him, particularly when it came to personal relationships - as if the whole concept of family was new to him. It was the clearest to see with Lyon, where her husband often acted like a child with their first pet. Discovering this side of her husband had thrilled Sansa - as if it was a secret only she knew. Aside from the sense of closeness it brought her she found his moments of innocence rather sweet.

"I love you" she said, turning to kiss the top of his head

"Even though I've pouted all morning, and been thouroughly miserable company?"

"Even then" she said with a laugh, turning her attention to the package sat in his lap "Are you going to open it?"

Sansa held it while Tyrion fumbled to untie it with one hand, after a few minutes of struggling he nudged it towards her.

"Would you mind?" he said with a sigh

"Of course"

She made quick work of it and the packaging fell away to reveal a pile of clothes, a note fluttered from the top onto Sansa's lap.

"What does it say?" asked Tyrion, poking at the clothes

"To my favourite little lion, I hope these clothes will be comfortable while you heal" read Sansa "I look forward to your next visit"

Sansa turned to her husband seeing his cheeks burning bright red. She raised an eyebrow "Should I be worried?"

"Absolutely not - Esther is the seamstress"

"You visit her often?" asked Sansa, corners of her mouth lifting into a grin

"She's a kind old woman and rather alone. I call upon her with Nessa sometimes to check she's ok"

Pride swelled in Sansa's chest for her husband. He looked embarrassed by the note but he had no reason to be. It was easy for Sansa to see the respect this woman and the small folk clearly had for her husband even if Tyrion still seemed surprised by it. Sansa had known Tyrion was a good man for a long time; his actions since coming North were finally showing people who he truly was - away from the poison of his family.

"Well, shall we see what she sent her favourite little lion?"

Tyrion groaned at her gentle teasing, pulling at the clothes in the pile. The package contained a few sets of breeches and tunics in dark colours and a lighter set that would be ideal for in their chambers.

"It's very kind of Esther" said Tyrion rubbing the fine material "though I fear getting them on over my broken limbs might prove a problem"

The quality was excellent but Sansa's sharp eyes picked up there was something different about these clothes.

"Not necessarily" she said, gesturing to the sleeves "look here, they're a lot wider than usual and there's some lacing around the cuff"

"I believe this is more your area of expertise than mine"

"It means they're wide enough to go over your bandages and you can pull the cuffs tighter so they don't look too baggy. The breeches are the same"

Tyrion's face lit up in understanding "You mean I can start to wear proper clothes again?"

"When the bandages come off your chest in a few days I think so"

"Good" he said grinning at her "A Queen shouldn't have a half-naked dwarf in her bed"

"It's our bed" she said, brushing her hand over his "and I'm quite fond of the man who shares it with me"

Sansa smiled at her husband's excitement. She knew he hated wearing nothing but the overly large breeches they'd found for him, but his injuries made it difficult to put any clothes on him. The sleeves on his normal tunics were too narrow to force his bandaged arm through and getting his own breeches over his broken ankle was near impossible. He'd somehow struggled into a tunic the night he tried to leave Winterfell, and getting the sleeve off his mangled arm had caused the splints to move. At least with these clothes they would be easier to put on and give him some normalcy. Maester Wolkan had mentioned getting Tyrion out of bed soon and believed the gash across his torso was healing well enough that there was little risk of it reopening.

"It will be nice to wear clothes again" he said, sinking back against the headboard "I shall ask Nessa to deliver a proper thank you to Esther. I wonder how she knew about my clothing issue"

"I suspect Nessa told her"

"Most likely, or perhaps one of the guards"

Part of the reason for his excitement over the clothes was hiding his scars - of that Sansa had no doubt. Whenever anyone came to see him she'd noticed how careful he was to keep his back out of sight, usually pressed against the pillows. Even when they were alone Tyrion tried to avoid letting her see the old scars that covered his back. While Tyrion hadn't told her how he'd got them, both Arya and Wolkan recognised them as lash marks and suspected it had happened to him in Essos.

Then there was the healing brand on the back of his shoulder. The Maester had removed the bandages that covered it and since then Tyrion seemed to have grown even more self-concious of the mark, doing his best to keep it hidden from view. Sansa chewed her lip considering the problem. There had to be some way to help Tyrion be more comfortable in his body. He always seemed on edge; as if he expected her to suddenly find him revolting when the opposite was true. While she'd thought Tyrion handsome enough when she married him, her time caring for him had only increased her attraction. His scars didn't bother her at all, but they clearly bothered him. Since they'd been married he'd never removed his shift in front of her, and now he could dress again she didn't want him to feel the need to hide from her once more.

Shaking her head, Sansa glanced at Tyrion admiring his new clothes beside her. Things couldn't go back to how they were; she'd do whatever she could to make things better.

* * *

_"Tyrion!"_

_He glanced wildly around, searching for the familiar voice._

_"Sansa!" he shouted_

_He tried to move but a collar around his neck yanked him backwards, as two men came into view guiding Sansa between them. Tyrion's heart thudded at the sight - had they hurt her? Tyrion tore at the collar and chain tethering him to the post, but it refused to budge. He was in the Wolfswood again, why was Sansa her? She shouldn't be here - it was dangerous._

_"Queen Sansa" greeted a sneering voice "nice of you to join us"_

_"Tyrion, what's happening?" called Sansa, looking to him for help_

_Robin and Gawan emerged from the trees surrounding the area, watching him struggle with satisfaction. The guards were holding Sansa too far away for him to reach, but he continued fighting to reach her – the collar digging painfully into his neck._

_"That's easy Sansa" said Robin, smirking at Tyrion as he stepped between them "You have some choices to make. Gawan wants to play a game you see"_

_"I won't let you hurt her!" shouted Tyrion, wanting nothing more than to kill them both_

_"Oh, we won't hurt Sansa" said Robin_

_"You can save the North or you can save the imp. But you can't do both" said Gawan, eyes glinting with madness as he stood beside Sansa._

_Sansa's blue eyes locked onto Tyrion's, filled with emptiness "I have a duty"_

_Gawan clapped his hands together "Let's start"_

_"Sansa, you can lose the support of house Tallhart or Tyrion can lose a finger" said Robin_

_"Finger"_

_What? Her voice was emotionless as she made the choice. No, Sansa wouldn't do struggled as guards took hold of him, pulling his right arm in front of him. Gawan's grinning face appeared in his vision before the boy pulled his hand open and sliced through his little finger, severing it at the base as blood spurted from the stump. Tyrion bit back his cry as the finger fell to the ground and pain roared through his hand._

_"Wasn't that fun?" laughed Gawan, picking up the bloody finger and waving it in front of him_

_His stomach churned at the sight of the severed finger but Tyrion kept his eyes on Sansa's empty face, searching for any hint of the love she'd promised him. Sansa loved him; she told him all the time. The North was her duty, but he was her husband. She'd save him. It was only a finger, he could get over that._

_"Lose a trade deal with Dorne or Tyrion get's ten lashes"_

_"Lashes"_

_The whip slammed against his back until his clothes fell off him in a bloody heap; still his eyes remained locked on Sansa._

_"Lose Winterfell or Tyrion gets a beating he won't forget"_

_"Beat him"_

_Fists thudded into Tyrion as the guards assaulted him, bones cracking and breaking under the onslaught until he was left lying in the dirt._

_On and on the questions went until Tyrion could barely lift his head. At Sansa's choice his chest had been sliced open by Gawan leaving scores of gashes across him, he'd lost two more fingers and had his leg broken. After each punishment his heart broke a little more, but he continued looking at Sansa – hoping to find her behind the empty eyes._

_"Sansa..." he wheezed as the guards let her approach him, Robin at her side_

_"One more choice Sansa" promised Robin "You can give up your crown and leave here peacefully with what's left of the imp, or you can keep your crown and sell him into slavery. Won't be worth much though, I'm afraid"_

_Gawan appeared on Sansa's other side, a glowing hot iron in his hand as the guards held Tyrion in place._

_The Queen approached him, staring directly into his face._

_"I thought you loved me" he said, voice breaking_

_Sansa's empty expression twisted into a smile "You thought wrong"_

_She seized the hot iron from Gawan, moving behind him as the guards tightened their grip. Robin and Gawan's cruel laughter filled the air as he went limp in the guards grip; the fight and hope draining out of him._

_"Try not to move" she whispered in his ear "I want this mark to be clear - so everyone can see what you really are"_

_Fire erupted across his shoulder as a cry of pain tore from his throat._

Tyrion awoke in a panic, the bed creaking as he shook. The brand on his back ached as if remembering how it got there. Sucking in a lungful of air, he gazed around the room seeing Sansa fast asleep on the other side of the bed. His dream had been horrible; playing out his worst fear that Sansa didn't actually care for him.

_'Don't be stupid'_ he told himself _'she's not left your side for weeks'_

Twisting on his side to see Sansa, the urge to wake her up nearly overwhelmed him. Part of him needed to see her blue eyes weren't empty – needed to see the warmth and tenderness they'd held for him these past weeks. He shook his head clearing the selfish thoughts. Sansa was resting peacefully and he had no need to disturb her over a stupid dream. That nightmare had spawned from the dark voice that whispered insecurities in his ear – that reminded him of his failings and inadequacies. It was the voice he was trying not to listen to anymore.

His eyes wandered over the gap between them in the bed. Tyrion always tried to keep some distance between them, curled up on his side of the bed...but maybe Sansa wouldn't mind if he went a little closer. The bed creaked as he shuffled closer to the Queen, until the warmth of her back could be felt against his arm. Would she mind if he stayed this close? The vision of his dream was hard to forget and Sansa was so warm. Something inside him urged him to go closer, promising safety and acceptance with her.

Closer to Sansa than he usually was Tyrion settled down against the pillow, forcing the horrid images from his mind. It wasn't real. Sansa wouldn't hurt him like that.

_'She hurt you before'_ taunted the voice _'She'll do it again. She's tricking you'_

No - that's not true. Tyrion reached for Sansa with his good hand, tilting onto his broken side and wrapping his hand in the softness of her shift. He screwed his eyes shut, willing the voice to leave him be. Sansa had hurt him…but she'd been so kind to him since then. She wanted him here; she promised to love him.

_'Fool, she'll only use you'_

He kept clinging to Sansa, as if the connection to her was enough to ward off the dark thoughts that so eagerly wanted to claim him. It was a dream - a terrible dream. Sansa wouldn't hurt him anymore.

* * *

Stretching in the bed as her eyes fluttered open, Sansa had the unusual sensation of something behind her. Glancing over her shoulder she stifled her shock at the sight of Tyrion curled tightly against her, his right hand wound into the fabric of her shift. Lightly taking hold of his wrist, she eased his grip from her and turned in the bed until she was facing his sleeping form, laying his hand back on her side.

To say she was suprised at his closeness was an understatement. Aside from the couple of times he'd allowed her to hold him while he slept, Tyrion nearly always curled up as far from her as possible in their bed. Part of her was thrilled at having him so close while the other part wondered what could have prompted it. A nightmare perhaps? She hadn't been sleeping well lately, but last night tiredness had apparently pulled her into a deeper sleep than usual and if he was distressed in the night she hadn't noticed.

Shifting in the bed, Sansa brushed the hair from his forehead, watching the frown on his face. A nightmare she decided; his face often held that wary tightness after bad dreams had plagued him. She shuffled closer to Tyrion, pulling the blankets around them and draping her arm over his side. Whatever he'd seen must have been truly awful for him to seek comfort from her – normally she had to offer repeatedly before he'd accept the smallest gesture from her. It was unlikely he'd tell her whatever had plagued him, but Sansa would have happily comforted him last night if he'd needed it.

"I'm here" she whispered, keeping her arm protectively around him "I'll protect you"

Sansa lay with Tyrion as the sun continued to creep further into the room, the birds outside chirping as they started their day. He stirred beneath her arm, green eyes blinking open to meet her own.

"Good morning" she said, smiling at him

His gaze darted around as he realised where he was lying, panic taking over his face. Sansa leaned forwards kissing his forehead "Did you sleep well?"

"Um yes, I mean no - I had a nightmare" he said, his eyes staring deeply into hers as if searching for something

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The tension left his face as he found whatever he was searching for in her gaze "No, thank you. It was a stupid dream. It wasn't real"

* * *

Arya glanced across at her brother lying on the chaise lounge. He'd improved quite a bit in the week following his illness but it would be a while before he was back to full strength. Sansa had left not long ago to handle some personal business but Arya knew when she returned her sister planned on apologising to Tyrion - as far as Arya was concerned it was long overdue. She understood her sister's reluctance to bring up the bedding when Tyrion was slowly becoming more open around them, but it was absolutely necessary. Maester Wolkan was going to assess his injuries tomorrow and he'd expressed a desire to get Tyrion out of bed if his injuries were healing well enough. It was the first step to returning to normalcy but Sansa had already told Arya things would not go back to the way they were. A hint of pride crept through Arya; her sister had made huge mistakes with her treatment of Tyrion but she was determined to fix them now. The real Sansa Stark was back.

Between herself and Sansa they'd carried Tyrion out of bed and set him up on the chaise lounge for a change. While he'd been excited to get out of bed he was far less enthusiastic about his transportation and had huddled a blanket around himself to hide his back from view. Arya frowned, recalling the shame that crossed his face when they helped him. It was obvious he hated wearing only breeches; leaving his upper body exposed aside from the bandages wound around his torso - though Arya had no idea why. They were his family; they weren't going to mock him. Her older sister had a plan for dealing with his embarrassment, but that would depend heavily on how their conversation goes. For now she turned her attention back to Tyrion, sat along the chaise lounge with his ankle propped up as he huddled under a blanket.

"So, big brother - how about a game?"

"As long as it isn't a test of strength" he said lolling against the chair

"No, it'll be fun" she promised

"Very well"

"Ok" said Arya, rubbing her hands together "We take it in turns to ask each other a question - the stranger the better. Questions can be about anything"

"Alright, you can start then" he agreed

Arya considered for a moment "What is your favourite colour?"

"That's your strange question?" he said with a snort

"You going to answer it?"

"I rather like blue" he said, corner of his mouth twitching upwards "I can't say it's something I've given much thought too however"

"Not red?"

"Just because I'm a Lannister doesn't mean I love red and gold. Have you ever seen a Lannister camp? Red everywhere you look, though I will admit to liking certain shades of red"

"Fair enough" said Arya with a nod "Your turn"

"What's the biggest lie you ever got away with?"

"That's not a strange question either!" she said

Tyrion shrugged "You set the tone"

"Fine - I think it's probably…fooling your father"

At that Tyrion's eyebrows shot up, and his face lit up in interest. Arya smirked - that certainly got his attention.

"Well?" he prompted

"I never said we had to explain"

Tyrion groaned, eyes begging her "You can't expect me to not be curious about that"

"I don't know brother…" she said, tapping her fingers against the chair

Of course she was going to tell him, but there was some fun to be had in making him beg for it. She resisted his pleading face for as long as she could before leaning forwards in her chair.

"Oh fine" she said, with a dramatic sigh "I can't watch you pout anymore"

"I do not pout"

"Yes you do - It's the exact same look Lyon gives you when he wants a scratch behind the ears" she said "Now do you want to hear how I fooled Tywin Lannister or carry on denying that you pout?"

"Fine - I pout like Lyon" he agreed, nodding eagerly "Now will you tell me?"

"I suppose" she said, rolling her eyes "When I escaped Kings Landing with the nights watch we were captured by Lannister's and taken to Harrenhal. I had them all convinced I was a boy until your father turned up and saw straight through me"

"Wait, he never realised who you were?"

"He'd never seen me before and I hardly looked like a highborn lady. Your father ordered all the prisoners to be put to work and made me his cupbearer"

"A higher position than he ever gave me in my youth"

Arya snorted "I spent weeks as his cupbearer. He realised I was Northern and had some education. That was my fault - I read in front of him. I told him some lies about my family to make me seem believeable, but I don't know how much he actually believed"

"All that time he had a Stark under his nose and he didn't realise" said Tyrion, grinning at her "I'd love to see the look on his face if he found out his cupbearer was Arya Stark"

"Your father wasn't what I expected" mused Arya "I expected him to be some kind of monster - which he was, just not like I imagined"

Tyrion's face darkened at her words "My father was an evil man - but most of his actions held a cold logic. He never killed for fun like Joffrey, but he was cruel in his own way"

"That's why his name was on my list"

"Your list?"

"I had a list of people I was going to kill"

"Who was on your list?" he asked, fiddling with his sling

"Joffrey, Cersei, Walder Frey, Meryn Trant, Tywin Lannister, the red woman, Beric Dondarion, Thoros Of Myr, Illyn Payne, and the mountain" said Arya, familiar regret for not killing more of them herself bubbling through her. The hound had been on her list too, but she'd taken him off long ago. She'd lost interest in some of the other names as well, but at the time they'd all earned their place.

Tyrion shifted uncomfortably on the chaise, green eyes flickering to her uncertainly "Was I ever on your list?"

"No. You never hurt my family personally, and when I reunited with Sansa she said you were her only friend in Kings Landing"

His face relaxed at her words, but Arya felt a little guilty all the same. If he'd hurt Sansa when they married in Kings Landing she might have added him to her list. Now it was impossible to was her brother - she loved him.

"You're my family now" she told him "anyone who hurts you ends up on the list"

"I pity them - they wouldn't stand a chance against you" he said, smiling at her "Sansa thought I had a kill list in Kings Landing once. She heard me repeating the names of those who mocked me; she thought it was so I could have them killed"

"You weren't?"

"No - as I told your sister I'm not Joffrey. It was more a list of those in need of some retribution. Sansa was quite keen on the idea"

"That's not very lady like"

"Sansa is a perfect lady" he said, mischief taking over his eyes "though she did suggest we sheep shift their beds"

"Sheep shift? Don't you mean sheep shit?"

"That's what Sansa told me it was called"

Arya snorted "Oh Gods, she thought that was the vulgar word for dung? Typical Sansa"

"It was very sweet" he said, with a grin

Arya smiled at the fondness on his face as he spoke of Sansa. As much as she hated how hurt Tyrion was, there was no denying his recovery had brought him and Sansa closer. It was obvious to her they both needed each other; she only hoped the talk Sansa was planning would bridge the gaps between them rather than break the growing trust.

"No more distracting me Tyrion - it's my turn to ask a question and it's going to be a big one after that!"

* * *

Returning to her chambers just after midday, Sansa slowed her steps as she approached the door. This was it, she realised. There could be no more putting off this conversation with Tyrion. She'd arranged with Arya earlier for her sister to visit while she took some time alone to gather her thoughts. The past couple of hours Sansa had spent wandering through the Godswood, hoping the place her father had so often retreated to for solace could offer her some comfort too.

It hadn't.

The icy wind had whipped around Sansa as if chastising her for the many mistakes she'd made, and the face in the heart tree held nothing but contempt for her. Arya knew what she was going to do, and Sansa had told her sister knowing that doing so would compel her to follow through. She couldn't put it off any longer. Raising her hand, Sansa eased the door open to find Tyrion and Arya sat by the hearth where she'd left them - the fire warming the room as the sun filtered in through the window.

"Sansa, just in time" called Arya, her feet swung over the arm of the chair "you can answer this question too"

The Queen made her way towards them, her eyes automatically checking over Tyrion. Her husband was propped up on the chaise lounge, cocooned in his lion blanket as she moved past him before sinking into her usual armchair.

"What's the question then?" she asked, trying to hide her nerves at the imminent conversation

"Arya asked what house I would be born into it, if I had a choice" explained Tyrion, giving her a small smile

"Do I even want to know what you've both been doing?" said Sansa

"Probably not" said Arya "Come on Sansa - we can all answer this question"

The Queen forced herself to focus on the question, and not the hundred thoughts and worries swirling through her mind.

"I think I'd choose house Tyrell. I know they're extinct now but Highgarden sounded beautiful and Margarey was quite clever too. The way she handled Joffrey and Kings Landing was impressive"

"Yes, Margarey was rather like her Grandmother, though her thorns were better hidden" said Tyrion "a shame the men in their family weren't nearly as smart"

Arya rolled her eyes "Of course you'd choose the pretty house"

"What about you Arya? Hard to imagine you as anything but a wolf" asked Sansa

"I'm proud to be a Stark, but if I had to choose another house I think I'd choose house Martell. The Dornish are more liberal and a lot of their girls learn to fight; it's not all marriage and babies"

"Weren't Prince Oberyn's daughters fighters?" asked Sansa, not knowing a great deal about the Dornish

"They were known as the sand snakes. Excellent fighters, though quite vicious" said Tyrion, a flash of sadness sweeping his face before it disappeared "You're right Arya, Dorne would certainly be more liberal than other parts of Westeros"

"Come on Tyrion, your turn" said Arya "You've put it off long enough"

"Oh, alright" said Tyrion, turning his gaze to the hearth "When I was a boy I often dreamed I was a lost Targaryen prince; that a dragon would swoop down and fly me away"

"So, you'd choose Targaryen?" asked Arya, keeping her tone light

"No – that was a child's dream of a pet dragon" said Tyrion, voice growing quiet "I think now...I'd choose house Stark"

Sansa's heart skippped a beat at his words, as he began to hurriedly defend his choice.

"It's just...I think if I had your parents they might not have hated me for what I am. Perhaps I might have been better accepted in the North"

"True" said Arya nodding "the south is a lot more bothered by appearances than the North. Actions count for far more up here"

Tyrion had answered so shyly – as if nervous they would be offended. Arya's acceptance of his answer had waylaid some of his anxiety, but his gaze kept flickering to her.

"I think you'd make a great Stark" she said, smiling warmly at her husband as the moment of unease left his face

"Absolutely" agreed Arya "Lyon clearly agrees or he wouldn't have bonded to you"

"Direwolves are better than dragons anyway" he said, glacing at his little friend currently taking an afternoon nap in the corner of the room

Arya and Tyrion moved the conversation on to direwolves and Sansa sat lost in thought, barely listening to their talk. She often wondered what her parents would think of her choices, in particular her choice of husband. There was no way to know what they thought, but Sansa liked to believe they would approve. Tyrion was a good man and a great lord of Winterfell – if her parents knew him as Sansa did she felt certain they would accept him as family.

"It's been fun Tyrion, but I have other things that need my attention as well" said Arya, rolling smoothly from the chair and to her feet

"Are you calling me a thing?"

"I certainly am big brother" she said with a grin, moving past the chaise to flick him on the head

"You shouldn't hit cripples" he protested

Arya smirked, repeating the action "Good thing you're not a cripple then"

"If you've finished hitting my husband" said Sansa, tapping her fingers nervously on the arm of the chair

"I'm done with him for now; he's all yours big sister" said Arya, moving to the doorway "See you later"

The door shut with finality, leaving Tyrion and Sansa alone at last. The relaxed expression on her husband's face dissapeared somewhat as Arya left; replaced by a well-hidden wariness. It was so subtle Sansa wasn't sure he realised he was doing it, but whenever it was just the two of them a guard went up around him. It hurt to see there was a part of him that feared her even a little, no matter how subconcious his reaction might be.

Sansa took in a deep breath before rising from her chair and perching on the edge of the chaise lounge facing her husband. It was just wide enough for her to sit next to Tyrion's legs as he sat propped up at the arm.

"How are you feeling?" she asked

"I'm quite alright" he said "it's nice to be out of bed"

"Good. Are you comfortable?"

"Yes Sansa, I'm fine"

His face seemed relaxed enough, but his good hand had begun to fiddle with his blanket – a sign that he wasn't entirely sure where this was going.

"I love you very much" she said, reaching out to stroke the side of his face "but I haven't treated you like someone I love"

"That's not true. You do far more for me than I deserve"

"You deserve so much more" she said, shaking her head "First of all, you deserve a proper apology"

His brow furrowed "For what?"

Sansa's body trembled with nerves, but she forced herself to hold her composure as she slipped from the chaise to kneel on the floor – her hand taking hold of Tyrion's.

"Sansa, what are you doing?"

His voice was panicked at her actions, but Sansa squeezed his hand gently "What I should have done a long time ago"

The Queen forced herself to look Tyrion in the eye, hoping he could see her sincerity "You've never hurt me – not ever. My honourable, brave, kind husband. In Kings Landing you were forced into marriage like I was, but you did your best to make it tolerable. You were kind and patient and understanding in ways I didn't appreciate until you weren't there. I brought you North for many selfish reasons, but mostly because I trusted you more than anyone else. You were my friend; my very best friend – and I hurt you horribly"

"No" he said, shaking his head "I had nothing left and you took me into your home..."

"Our home" she corrected, lightly kissing his hand "I brought you North and I forced you to marry me. I forced you to consumate the marriage"

"It was duty" he said, shifting uncomfortably "I understand duty"

"No, my love – it was selfish. I was scared Tyrion. I couldn't stand another arranged marriage so I married a man I knew would never hurt me; someone I could trust. When I became Queen I wanted to make the North strong and successful, to rebuild what years of war stole from us. That crown turned me into someone who wasn't Sansa Stark; it turned me into a monster"

"You're not a monster" he said, shaking his head "never a monster"

"I had no idea what I was capable of doing until I'd done it. When I told you that you were going to wed me, I asked for your word that you would be there. Tyrion – I meant what I said at the time. If you hadn't given me your word I would have locked you in your room and had you dragged to the Godswood for the ceremony. I knew you didn't want the marriage, but at the time it didn't matter. I was going to marry you and that was that"

"It's in the past" he said, eyes turning downcast "it doesn't matter"

Sansa rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand, steeling her nerves for what had to come next "You didn't want to consummate the marriage – and I raped you"

"No" he said, tugging his hand from her grip "A man has the right to bed his wife willing or not; you have the same right with me. It was duty, I understand that"

Her heart cracked as he pulled away from her, but she had to plough ahead – however much Tyrion didn't want to hear this.

"A man has that right" she agreed "which you never used in Kings Landing"

"You were a child being forced to marry a man you hardly knew, into a family you hated. It wasn't the same thing"

"How many men would have shown me the kindness and care you did? I've seen the world since then Tyrion; most men would have eagerly taken me in bed"

"Sansa it's entirely different. You're my Queen – whatever you want from me is yours to take"

"So it didn't bother you that I forced you into a marriage?" she pressed "You weren't hurt when I pushed you on your back and claimed you as mine? I raped you twice..."

"Enough" he said, screwing his eyes shut "Sansa, please...why are you doing this? If you want to use me like that again...I-I won't stop you. It's only duty - I understand, just please get it over with"

Sansa's heart thudded painfully at the fear on his face. Tyrion wouldn't look at her now, glancing down at his blanket. Did he really think she was going to rape him again? She would reassure him it would never happen again, but first he had to accept what she did was wrong. Her hand shook as she reached for his once more; hurt coursing through her as he flinched at her touch. Swallowing down the guilt that threatened to drown her she gently prised his hand from its place wrapped in the blanket and took it in her own.

"Tyrion, I'm not bringing this up to hurt you - I'm bringing it up to apologise" she said "What I did to you was wrong and I am sorrier than you could ever know"

"It was my fault" he said, refusing to look at her "I convinced myself you wanted a husband in name only - I never thought you'd want to consummate it. You were doing your duty to the North Sansa, I should have done mine"

"No" she insisted, squeezing his hand "There are no excuses for the way I treated you. The second time I raped you…Tyrion you were so hurt. I knew I'd gone too far, but I had no idea how to make things better with you. I was selfish and cruel – I never even bothered to ask why you wouldn't bed me"

"Shae" he said, screwing his eyes shut "After what happened with her…I couldn't go back to what I was before. I loved her, I trusted her and she betrayed me"

A flicker of understanding went through Sansa, followed swiftly by more guilt. There was no doubt at all that she was in the wrong, but her husband was still refusing to blame her. Sansa's stomach churned at what she was about to do, but there was no other way.

"Tyrion, can you honestly say you weren't hurt by my actions? That it didn't bother you when I pinned you beneath me and bound us together?"

"No… stop"

"You promised to never hurt me - I used that against you. I planned for the possibility you wouldn't bed me. One way or another we were going to be joined"

"Sansa, please…"

"I could feel you struggling beneath me right until I sank on top of you. The second time you didn't bother to struggle…"

"Enough!" he shouted, wrenching his hand from hers "Do you want the truth Sansa? Yes - you did hurt me. You hurt me in a way I didn't think possible. All I ever wanted was someone to love me. Not my family name, not my money - just me. I knew when you married me it was duty not love, but I hoped you might care for me a little"

Tears were threatening at the edge of his eyes, as years of hurt swept across his face. Sansa hated having to provoke him, but she couldn't let him continue to deny his pain any longer. He'd forgiven every mistreatment he'd suffered at her hands without a second thought – it was far more than she deserved. Not this though – she couldn't let him push away his anger for being raped. If he did Sansa knew the distance between them might never close.

"Oh, sweetheart I do love you" she said, reaching towards him as he huddled away from her "I love you more than anything in the world"

He was breathing heavily following his outburst, but the anger drained from him almost as quickly as it came "I'm sorry Sansa…I shouldn't have shouted at you. I'm sorry…"

More than anything she wanted to wrap her arms around him, but it wasn't time yet and Tyrion looked so hurt and scared. As if afraid his anger at her actions would turn her against him.

"I knew saying those things would hurt you Tyrion - but you're so quick to defend me. I wanted you to accept that I was in the wrong; not you. I blamed myself for what Ramsay did to me in the beginning, but then I realised it was his fault not mine. It was liberating in a way - to not have that guilt for something I had no control over"

"I'm sorry, shouldn't have lost control…" he said, drawing in on himself

Sansa bit back her frustration. He had every right to be furious with her, but instead he looked terrified showing his real emotions would turn her away from him.

"There's nothing wrong with being angry at me - I understand if you hate me; if you can't trust me. I abused you in the worst way my love"

Tyrion shook his head, shoulders slumping "I could never hate you. I couldn't blame you either. Everything you thought you knew about relationships was poisoned by Cersei, Joffrey, littlefinger and all the rest"

"That doesn't change what I've done" she insisted "my parents taught me right from wrong long before I left Winterfell - what I did to you was wrong"

An awkward silence fell between them. Coaxing the anger from him had been awful, but Sansa doubted there was anything left to be gained from pushing him further. She'd done what she could to own up to her mistakes, and show Tyrion it was her fault - not his. The only thing left to do was move forwards.

Sansa gazed up at her husband, her own heart shuddering as she watched him wipe furiously at his red rimmed eyes.

"Tyrion" she said, hoping to draw his attention "Nothing I do will make up for the pain I've caused but I swear to you by the old gods and the new that it will never happen again. If we ever join in the bed; it will be when you want to. I'm so sorry Tyrion"

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to share your bed...I'm not me anymore" he said, voice breaking

"Then so my watch begins"

Tyrion wrapped his good arm around himself, curling away from Sansa as she echoed the words he'd spoken so long ago. He wouldn't look at her as she knelt beside the chaise.

"No, Sansa… you want children and deserve a man who can give you that. Who can truly be your husband. I won't stand in your way – if you want an end to this marriage I'd understand"

"I will regret treating you as I have until the day I die" she said firmly "but I will never regret marrying you. Don't ask me to end our marriage Tyrion – it's the one thing I won't give you"

She'd suspected he would offer her a way out of their marriage again before she began this conversation. Unlike the last time she knew he didn't truly want to leave Winterfell. He'd chosen to stay; he was beginning to accept his place in their family. If she offered Tyrion a way out of their marriage, she knew he would take it – but not because he wanted to. He would take it because he thought it was the right thing to do; the best thing for her. Yet Sansa knew it wasn't the best thing for either of them. The selfish part of her couldn't bear to part from him, and Tyrion clearly needed a family's love. This was where he belonged, and no matter what Sansa wouldn't lose him again.

"I just want you to be happy" he said, face twisting in anguish "You suffered so much Sansa; you deserve it more than anyone"

"You make me very happy. I hope one day I can do the same for you"

His face crumpled at her words and she was unable to bear his turmoil a moment longer. Sansa moved from her kneeling position to sit on the edge of the chaise next to Tyrion. She swiftly cupped his tear stained face, tilting his head up to look at her. Leaning forwards Sansa pressed a long kiss to his forehead.

"I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it – my love and my heart are yours now and always"

When Tyrion finally turned his eyes to her, she saw all of his pain and insecurities laid bare across his face. His gaze studied her own with wariness and Sansa kept her gaze steady as he searched it – hoping he could see there was no doubt or hesitation in her words.

"I'm so sorry for the way I've treated you and I swear it will never happen again. You are the only man I want to share my life with, and if you ever decide you'd like to be a father I would be honoured to have your children" she continued, stroking his cheek with her thumb "I've made Winterfell seem like your prison, but it's your home and it always will be"

He said nothing, mouth pressing into a tight line as he searched her face. This was it, she realised. All the time she'd spent considering how to possibly apologise for her vile actions had led to this moment.

"I've no reason to expect your forgivness or trust - but I will ask for it anyway. Will you give me another chance to be your wife?"

Tyrion stared up at her as warm tears trickled down his face and against her hands. An eternity passed with Sansa's heart hammering in her chest, until Tyrion's head nodded forwards and a small smile tugged at his mouth.

"I forgive you Sansa"

"Thank you" she breathed, a crushing weight lifting off her shoulders

"Are..are you sure you still want me to be your husband?" he asked, twisting his hands

Sansa smiled "Of course sweetheart - I love you"

"I quite like having a wife" he said, giving her a tentative smile "I don't want to be alone…"

"You never will be" she promised "You're mine to love and protect"

"I…" he started, fumbling for the words "I'll always be here for you too"

It didn't matter; Sansa knew what he meant even if he couldn't put it into words.

"I know you will" she said, eyes growing damp as she gazed fondly at her husband

Reaching forward Sansa carefully moved to hug Tyrion and when he didn't protest she drew him tightly against her.

"It'll be ok" she whispered in his ear, feeling his good arm lightly wrap around her "I'll take care of you"

* * *

When Arya returned to her sisters chambers hours later she eased the door open to find a surprising sight. Ghosting across the room on soundless feet, Arya took in the scene that met her. Tyrion was still propped against the arm of the chaise lounge, but Sansa was now curled against him - both sound asleep. Her arms were wrapped around Tyrion in a death grip while his unbroken arm was lying across her back.

Lyon was lying in front of the hearth, his green eyes flickering to hers as she approached. Bending down to ruffle the wolf's fur, Arya moved her gaze to her family.

A slow smile spread across her face. Tyrion looked surprisingly content with his wife pressed against him, even though Sansa's face was still dripping in guilt. If their current position was any indication her sister's apology had been accepted and Arya found herself relieved for her older sister. Sansa had been so afraid Tyrion might not forgive her, even though Arya didn't doubt he would. Trust would need to build between them and there was still a good way to go for the rifts between them to fully heal; but they were on the right track. Sansa had to face her duties as Queen; and Tyrion had to deal with what he'd endured in the Wolfswood. Perhaps this time, they could face their challenges together. Both of them had struggled alone for far too long.

* * *

Tyrion sat up in bed, his gaze turning to the empty place beside him Sansa had occupied not long before. Yesterdays apology had meant a lot to him, as had her assurances that she wouldn't repeat the act. Regardless of how much care she'd shown him the past couple of weeks, his cynical side had constantly warned him of the possibility that Sansa would take him in the bed again. He'd chosen to stay at Winterfell and had tried to make peace with the fact Sansa would most likely use him for his seed at some point; however much the thought revolted him. Since being forced to watch his first wife being taken by his father's guards, he held a particular hatred for rape. Hearing Sansa had suffered such abuse by her last husband had sickened him. Becoming the victim of such an act had hurt him in a way he thought he'd never experience.

Shaking his head to clear the thought, Tyrion tried to focus on the future. As far as he could see Sansa had been utterly sincere in her apology and promise to never force him in bed again. In return he'd told her the unfortunate truth - he didn't think he'd ever be ready to join with her in the bed. However many years passed, the consequences of his relationship with Shae still haunted him. Doubt and insecurity were his oldest enemies, dripping poison in his ear however much he wished to move forwards. Nonetheless he'd given Sansa his forgiveness. By choosing to stay at Winterfell he'd promised himself he would try. That meant trust. It meant taking a leap of faith.

The door creaked open and Sansa entered, followed by two servants carrying a heavy tub. Wolkan was coming this morning to check over his injuries and upon waking Sansa had kissed him gently before excusing herself for a short time.

"Just over there" she said to the servants, gesturing to Tyrion's side of the bed

Tyrion scratched his head as the servants began to fill the tub with hot water. Why was Sansa having a bath next to him?

"Shall I give you some privacy?" he asked Sansa as she moved beside the bed

"For what?"

Tyrion stared at her "I thought you were having a bath"

"Perhaps later"

"Then what's the tub for?" he asked, a slither of unease creeping down his back

Sansa smiled brightly at him "It's for you. I thought you might like a hot bath"

"That's a nice idea" he said, swallowing nervously "but wouldn't the bandages get wet?"

"I spoke to the Maester and he's going to take them all off today anyway and apply new ones as needed. When you've had your bath he'll come up to see you"

"Oh" said Tyrion, eyeing the tub as it was filled near the top

His mind whirled trying to think of some kind of excuse to free him from this. There was no chance he could get in or out of the tub on his own, and cleaning himself properly would also prove a problem. Sansa knew this - surely she didn't mean to bathe him? Since he'd been bed ridden Sansa had often brought a cloth and water to the bedside to keep him clean. That was embarrassing enough - this would be humiliating. The servants finished filling the tub as steam wafted in the air, one of the girls leaving a couple of jars to one side.

"Thank you" said Sansa, as the servants took their leave

The door closed with finality as Sansa turned to him once more "Are you ready?"

"I appreciate the thought Sansa…but I…um"

The bed creaked as Sansa sank onto the mattress beside him, her eyes sympathetic "I'm not going to make you have a bath if you really don't want to. Hopefully Maester Wolkan will give you the all clear to leave the bed and start moving around a bit. I thought a bath might make you feel better - ready for a fresh start"

Sansa was studying him closely. She'd clearly planned this and had every intention of giving him a bath, but he knew if he refused she wouldn't push it. Every instinct in Tyrion was screaming no, but he found his head nodding his assent anyway. He'd forgiven Sansa; he needed to try and trust her.

"Good" she said, face brightening "let me help you"

Tyrion tried to hide his nerves as Sansa pulled the blankets off him and helped him towards the edge of the bed. She smiled reassuringly as she undid the sling around his arm, easing the damaged limb into his lap.

"Is that ok?" she asked, noting him wince at the movement

"Its fine" he said with a grimace "just been a while since I've been able to move that arm"

Her hands moved to his breeches, blue eyes asking him silently for permission. This was his last chance, he realised. Did he really want to be so vulnerable in front of Sansa? Biting down his panic, Tyrion tried to focus on Sansa's words from yesterday. She wanted his trust; could he really deny it her?

_'She'll be disgusted by you'_ whispered his fear

Looking away from Sansa, he nodded once more. His gaze wandered to the door as she unlaced the overly large breeches and began to tug them free.

"You don't have to worry" said Sansa, easing his breeches further downwards and exposing him "this isn't an ice bath - it's nice and warm for you"

"That's a relief"

Sansa took great care to ease his breeches gently over his broken ankle, before discarding them to one side. Familiar shame for his body burned through him as he sat naked before her, ducking his head to one side to avoid her gaze. Pressing his mouth into a firm line, he steeled himself for the disgust that was sure to follow. Instead he felt Sansa's delicate hand wind into the back of his hair before she tenderly kissed his head.

"Let's get you in" she said, wrapping her arms gently around him to guide him from the bed

Mercifully the tub wasn't very high and with Sansa holding most of his weight he managed to hop the very short distance to the bath. After so long in bed his body was weak and uncoordinated - without Sansa's help he would have fallen over straight away. She didn't seem at all surprised by his weakness and helped him into the tub with ease, making sure no weight was put on his broken ankle. The hot water was welcoming as it lapped over him, coming up to just below his shoulders as he pressed his scarred back rigidly against the tub. Sansa sank to her knees beside him, a wash cloth in hand.

Before he could protest, she dipped the cloth in the water and lifted it to his face.

"You don't need to do this" he said, pressing back against the tub as much as he could "I can manage"

"I know" she said "but you don't have to manage"

"You already do far too much for me" he said, eyes downcast at the helpless state his injuries had left him in

"I don't do nearly enough – but I will. Besides I like taking care of you" she said, blue eyes pleading with him

Against his better judgement Tyrion found himself surrendering to Sansa's care, and she eagerly began to clean him. He made sure to keep his back out of sight, and gripped the edge of the tub with his right hand as Sansa gently moved the cloth around his face. She was right about the bath – it felt good to be clean again and the hot water was soothing against his battered body. Despite that, Tyrion found it hard to relax as Sansa worked.

Part of him had hoped this would be an embarrassing but quick exercise in trust, yet Sansa seemed in absolutely no hurry to get it over with. Instead, her bright blue eyes never left him - as if he was worth looking at.

"Your face is healing well" she said, her fingers lightly brushing the scar

"Well enough for my beard to return?"

"Not just yet" she said "Soon"

"I'm starting to think you don't like my beard" he said, forcing himself to relax under her scrutiny

"It's very nice when it's neatly trimmed" she said, stroking his bare face "I like seeing your face though"

"Are you implying I don't look after my beard?"

"You don't look after yourself at all - your beard is an unfortunate victim"

"What do you mean?" he said squirming under her scrutiny

Sansa raised an eyebrow as she moved her attention from his face to his chest, gently wiping the cloth over him "You consider one meal a day and hardly any sleep to be looking after yourself?"

"I'm only small - I don't need much food. Sleep has never been kind to me either"

The Queen leaned forwards, kissing his wet cheek "That's exactly why you can't be trusted to look after yourself"

His face burned at her words "I'm not a child; I don't require supervision"

"No, you're my husband who deserves my attention - I won't forget that again. You certainly won't be running yourself into the ground either" she said "Proper sleep and food"

While part of him wanted to deny her allegations, his heart warmed at her words. Everyday Sansa kept chipping away at his defences and it was becoming increasingly difficult to control his attachment to her. Life had taught him many times whatever he cherished could and would be taken from him…still it was increasingly hard to fight against his feelings for Sansa.

"Sit forward a little Tyrion - I need to do your back"

His fingers tightened on the wooden edge of the tub as Sansa waited patiently for him to move forwards.

"That's ok" he said "You don't need to do that"

'What are you so scared of?' whispered his mind 'She's seen all of you before'

"How else are you going to clean you back?" she asked

Once again his fears wavered in the face of Sansa's pleading eyes. She wanted his trust and he'd agreed to give it to her. Sliding forward in the tub, he saw Sansa shuffle behind him with the cloth in hand. He hung his head low, staring into the water as Sansa's delicate fingers brushed against his scarred back. A moment later her fingers were replaced by the cloth moving slowly against his skin.

Tyrion hated his body; he always had. The scars on his back ignited a particular hatred in him. The lash marks were a constant reminder of Essos and his experience of slavery. Now the brand on his shoulder added a new level of shame.

"Not very pretty is it?" he ground out after a few minutes of her gentle cleaning

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean"

Sansa's scrubbing stopped and her fingers replaced the cloth, tenderly tracing the scars that covered him "I love you - and your scars don't bother me at all. Why do they bother you?"

"Why? They're a constant reminder of what I really am" he said "a disfigured dwarf"

"Hmm, that's strange" she said, his body tensing as her fingers moved towards the brand on his shoulder "I'm fairly sure this one says you're a hero - not a disfigured dwarf"

"I'm not a hero"

"There are a lot of wildlings who disagree, followed by many northerners and the Queen in the North" she said, tracing the pattern with a feathlight touch "Does it hurt?"

It was still tender - but that was nothing compared to the burning agony when it had been done.

"Not really" he said

Her fingers disappeared from his back only to be replaced by her lips pressing a tender kiss against the brand a moment later. Every nerve stood on end at the action, but Sansa merely resumed her cleaning of him as if nothing strange had happened. A lump formed in his throat at the gesture, and his walls crumbled a little more.

"Lashed" he said, swallowing hard "I got lashed in Essos, that's what happened to my back"

He couldn't see Sansa's face as she continued cleaning him, and for some reason it made it easier for him to get the story out. He'd never planned on telling Sansa, but he wanted to trust her - to show her he was trying. Perhaps giving her this piece of his past might go someway to show her that.

His words tumbled out; about the girl, his offer to pay for the bread…and how they took their payment.

"I'm so sorry" she said when he was finished, pausing her cleaning of his back "You did a brave thing, trying to save that girl from losing a hand"

"It was stupid, as Jorah pointed out to me later" said Tyrion, screwing his eyes shut against the memory "that girl most likely stole again and lost a hand anyway"

"You don't know that. What you did might have been the only kindness that girl had ever experienced" said Sansa, lightly tracing his scars "You've no reason at all to be ashamed; you should be proud"

Tyrion mulled over her words as she, guided him back to rest against the edge of the tub, though he kept his face towards the water.

"I'm very proud of you" she said, leaning around the back of him to kiss his cheek "Please don't feel like you have to hide from me. This is your home and I'm your wife; I want you to be comfortable"

His chest tingled at her words and Tyrion felt himself relaxing more despite his reluctance in the bath. Sansa was right; he couldn't live the rest of his life hiding from her. He'd chosen to stay at Winterfell and Sansa had done everything these past weeks to show him it was home. The only real barrier to accepting his place here was himself.

Tyrion was drawn from his musings as hot water cascaded over his head, plastering his curly hair to his face.

"What was that?" he sputtered, as the water ran down his face

"You didn't think I'd forget your hair" she said innocently, running her hands through his damp hair

Sansa's grinning face appeared at his side and she passed the cloth to him, indicating his lower region.

"I thought you'd rather…"

"Yes" he said immediately "thank you"

"You clean yourself and I'll deal with your hair"

Tyrion cleaned himself as well as he could with one hand while Sansa seemed content to keep soaking his hair. It was only when a rather feminine scent met his nose that he returned his attention to what Sansa was doing.

"Hold still" she said, running both hands gently through his hair...and rubbing.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"I love your hair" she said with a contended sigh "all curly and golden - a bit of this oil will make it so soft"

"Men don't use that sort of thing" he protested as the scent wafted around his face

"Are you afraid your friends will mock you for having nice hair?" she teased

"No – it's Arya who won't let me live it down. You know she'll notice! What about Lyon?"

"He has nice hair too"

"This will confuse him. How's he supposed to know my scent if I smell flowery? He'll wonder how long he's been hunting for"

Sansa moved from behind Tyrion to his side; long fingers still massaging the oil into his hair.

Her eyes sparked with amusement at his pouting "Lyon has eyes Tyrion, I'm sure he won't get confused because your hair is fluffier and smells nice"

Tyrion stared at her, mouth turning upwards "Oh, I see what this"

"See what?"

"You only suggested a bath so you could play with my hair" he accused, as Sansa's smile widened

"I've wanted to do this for a long time" she confessed "I was devastated when Maester Wolkan had your hair cut really short. Thankfully it suited you, though I am glad it's growing out a bit"

"A cruel trick Sansa Stark. Tricking innocent dwarfs into baths so you can play with their hair"

Sansa laughed "You're hardly innocent"

"You admit it was a trick"

"Yes, I lured you into my trap" she said, continuing to run her hands through his hair "Your punishment is soft, fluffy hair"

Tyrion's nerves eased as him and Sansa continued their playful bickering. He liked being close to Sansa - the warmth in her eyes was enough to chase away his insecurities, even for a short time. Despite his protests he didn't really care what she put in his hair as long as she smiled at him when she did it.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N - This story is so much bigger than I imagined. Nevertheless we shall continue. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

**Chapter 24**

"The wound on your chest has healed quite well my lord" said Wolkan "Shall I check your ankle next?"

Tyrion nodded mutely on the bed, and Sansa reached out to grasp his hand; squeezing lightly. Following the bath, she'd helped her husband into a pair of the new breeches Esther had sent - rolling them up to his knee to avoid the soggy bandages on his left ankle while they awaited the Maester.

She understood why Tyrion was nervous. Of all his injuries, his broken ankle would cause him the most problems going forwards if it didn't heal properly. As Wolkan cut away the soggy splint, Sansa's mind wandered back to the bath she'd not long ago given her husband. When she initially thought of the idea it seemed an ideal way to be closer to Tyrion and hopefully ease some of his insecurities - at least around her. In practice, she'd been nearly as nervous as he was. Naively, she'd thought the experience would be similar to helping her mother bathe her siblings as a child. Yet when she'd started to undress Tyrion, it became very obvious he was not a child and Sansa did not in fact, know what she was doing. She wasn't helping a reluctant child to have a bath; she was asking for the trust of a man who'd been mocked and abused all of his life - a man who was still recovering from a traumatic experience.

Despite his obvious fear Tyrion had given her his trust; and she held it like a sacred gift.

Seeing how scared Tyrion was had eased some of her own fears, propelling her into the familiar role of carer. Pushing her own doubts aside was much easier when she was focusing on someone else's needs, and she enjoyed lavishing Tyrion with her attention. As expected, his back had proven the biggest obstacle and she'd done what she could to reassure him that his scars held no shame. The trust he'd given her this morning meant everything to Sansa; he'd even told her how he acquired the scars across his back. Her stomach rolled recalling his story. The image of Tyrion being tied to a post and publicly lashed, all for trying to save a poor child from mutilation was sure to haunt her dreams. She could hardly imagine how horrific the experience surely was for him.

Sansa bit her lip gazing at her husband's anxious face as Wolkan examined his ankle. He must have been so scared; alone in a strange country - not knowing what they were going to do to him. More than anything Sansa wished she'd been there to protect him. As awful as it sounded she'd spared little thought for where Tyrion was following word of his escape from Kings Landing. Her own life had become consumed by littlefingers manipulation and the horror Ramsay could inflict on her. The Queen shook her head to clear the dark thoughts. That was in the past - Tyrion was here and she would protect him now.

A sudden squeeze of her hand drew Sansa sharply back to the present; to her husband's tight face as his ankle was probed. His hand relaxed almost as soon as it tightened and Tyrion tried to pull away, but Sansa held firm rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine" he said, barely concealing a wince

"Apologies my lord, I am trying to determine the exact point of the break before I make the splint. Your ankle was too bruised and swollen before to do so accurately"

"I think you found it" said Tyrion grimacing at the treatment

"Your ankle looks much better though" said Sansa, thankful it no longer resembled the twisted mess it was

"At least my foot is pointing the right way up"

"It appears to be healing as well as can be expected my lord. I will splint it again and then we can try some weight on it"

Her husband's fear grew more noticeable as Wolkan fashioned pieces of wood around the broken limb and began to secure it under layers of bandages. She knew Tyrion was afraid of being crippled. His self-esteem was already rock bottom; the last thing he needed was to be lame for the rest of his life.

"It'll be ok" she soothed, stroking his hand

"What if I can't walk again?" he said quietly, pleading green eyes turning to her

"You will"

"I could be crippled. Unable to walk properly for the rest of my life"

"Then we'll find a way around it"

Tyrion gave her a sad smile before his expression tightened "I don't want to be a cripple"

"You won't be a cripple" she said, moving from her chair to perch on the edge of the bed "and if you struggle to walk I'll help you"

He turned his face from her and Sansa could practically hear his unspoken words of protest; telling her how he didn't want to be an inconvenience. It had been heart-warming to see Tyrion relaxing in the bath and exchanging playful banter with him, but she wasn't naïve enough to think he was cured of his doubts and insecurities. This morning had given her much to hope for however.

"I think you can try to stand now my lord" said Wolkan, moving back from Tyrion's bound ankle to stand at the side of the bed

It wasn't as padded as before, though it was still a sorry sight. Familiar anger burned through Sansa. Robin and Gawan would die for this. Turning her attention back to Tyrion, Sansa helped him shuffle to the edge of the bed and looped her arm around his waist.

"Ready?" she whispered, leaning her head against his

"Ready"

Together they moved from the bed, Sansa maintaining her grip on Tyrion as his feet slid to the floor. Wolkan knelt not far from the bed, sharp eyes trained on the broken limb.

"Try to put more weight on it my lord"

Her husband obliged, leaning away from her slightly to put more pressure on the leg.

"How does that feel?" asked Wolkan

"It's ok" said Tyrion, corners of his mouth turning upwards

"Very good" said the Maester "Shall we try moving forwards?"

Tyrion nodded slowly, leaning away from Sansa as he lifted his bandaged foot. She held her breath until her husband managed to take a step, gingerly transferring his weight onto the limb. A grimace crossed his face as he moved but Tyrion continued forwards as Sansa forced herself to remain still. He staggered on the second step before righting himself. The progress was painfully slow but her husband managed to take at least four steps before coming to a halt - his body swaying on the spot.

Wolkan reached out to steady him but Sansa got there first; crouching down to take his weight as she looped her arm around his waist.

"Sorry" he said, leaning against her "The room started to spin on me"

"You did great" she said, kissing his cheek "I knew you could do it"

Tyrion gave her a small smile as his chest heaved from the exertion. It was awful watching him struggle to walk. Part of her wanted to put him back in bed where he was safe, but she couldn't keep him locked in their chambers forever - however much she wanted to.

Wood scraping along the floor drew her attention as Wolkan pulled over a chair for Tyrion.

"That was very promising my lord, though it's best not to overdo it"

Her husband nodded, and she helped him into the chair as the old Maester knelt in front of Tyrion to resume his examination.

"I'm too weak" said Tyrion, dropping his gaze "A few steps and I'm exhausted"

"You've been bed ridden for weeks my lord, and nearly died of a serious illness just a week ago - it will take time to recover your strength. What was the pain in your ankle like?"

"Dull" he said "It ached but it was bearable"

Sansa stood behind Tyrion's chair, lowering her hands to rub his shoulders as the Maester spoke with him. The reminder of that horrible night when he'd nearly died stirred a cold dread in Sansa's heart. It had been far too close - but Tyrion was here; he was alive.

"I believe the best course of action will be to slowly increase your mobility. A few short journeys each day to increase your strength. Your ankle will need to be monitored carefully and it would be better if you used a stick to get around - to ensure stability and keep some of the weight off the break"

Her husband's face fell at the prospect of using a stick, and Sansa lightly squeezed his shoulders.

"You won't need to use a stick if you don't want" she told him "You won't be going anywhere without me until you've healed so you can lean on me instead"

Sansa shot Wolkan a look and the old man quickly agreed "Of course my lord, anything to relieve a little pressure on the broken bones until they're stronger. It's a very good sign that you could move as you just did - in time I think you will recover well"

Tyrion nodded, fiddling with the edge of his breeches "Will I be able to walk when Bran comes?"

"That's a couple of weeks away and I suspect you will be much improved by then. I've brought a boot that will go over your bandaged foot, though it is quite large compared to your usual boots I'm afraid" said Wolkan "However it will stabilise your foot and keep the splint clean"

Bran's visit was drawing closer, and as much as she wanted to see her little brother Sansa found herself growing anxious at the prospect of his visit. He was barely recognisable as Bran anymore. Instead of her little brother he was the three-eyed raven – his eyes had seen too much and his words sent ice slithering down her spine. It wasn't natural what he could do. She'd seen strange things; dragons, white walkers – but Bran unnerved her more than anything else. She suspected it was the words he'd spoken to her in the Godswood about the night she married Ramsay. Of all the ways he could have proven his powers, he chose that horrific night?

She'd told Tyrion about the impending visit and her husband seemed as anxious as she was. Telling him that Bronn, Podrick, Brienne and Davos were coming too had further darkened his mood – much to her surprise. Perhaps he didn't want them to see him in a weakened state? Tyrion hadn't said anything to indicate he was nervous about their visit, but she knew him well enough to see the truth.

Turning her mind back to the present, her eyes followed Tyrion's as the Maester removed the bandages holding his arm together. Much like his ankle it was nowhere near as mangled as it had been, though there was still some evidence of fading bruises around his hand.

"This was quite the mess lord Tyrion, it certainly looks better though" said Wolkan, taking hold of his broken fingers "Can you feel this?"

"Yes"

"How about this?"

Wolkan continued to manipulate Tyrion's hand and Sansa noticed the Maester's brow furrow as he continued the exam.

Apparently Tyrion had also noticed "Not good news?"

The old man sighed "Some good, some bad I fear. Your wrist is healing well and the two broken fingers appear to be healing straight – it's your hand that concerns me"

Tyrion tensed under her hands and Sansa rubbed his shoulders soothingly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, as Tyrion dropped his head away from them

"There were multiple breaks in the hand and fixing such breaks is incredibly difficult. The bruising and swelling at the time made pinpointing the breaks near impossible" started Wolkan

"Most Maester's would remove the hand" muttered Tyrion

"Indeed" he agreed, smiling kindly at Tyrion "though I've always found that treatment rather extreme – and unnecessary in this case"

Sansa let out a breath at the verdict "What's actually wrong with his hand?"

"If you see here" said Wolkan, pointing to the top of her husband's hand "a couple of the bones are healing out of alignment. Most appear to be healing correctly, but this would likely hinder the use of that hand"

"So I am crippled?" said Tyrion, refusing to look at his damaged limb

"Not necessarily my lord" said Wolkan "I can reset the bandages as they were and your hand will continue to heal as it is, though you will lose some movement in it. As it isn't your dominant hand you might prefer than option"

"Or?" prompted Sansa

"There is a way that might help to realign the bones and restore better use of the limb. I won't lie to you lord Tyrion – either way this hand is likely to have some stiffness to it considering the damage. However, I can construct a tighter splint that would push the broken bones towards their natural alignment. If successful the treatment would be more likely to give you full use of the hand – though I must warn you it is a painful process and will extend the healing by a week or two. Your left arm will need to remain unused and immobilised for longer than if you leave the hand in its current state"

Sansa moved from her place behind Tyrion, dropping down beside the chair "What do you think?"

"I don't know" he said, biting his lip

"The choice is yours" said Sansa "I'd understand if you wanted to just leave it as it is, but if you want to use that hand fully..."

"I do" he decided, turning to Wolkan "I'll do the treatment"

"Very good my lord" said the Maester, bowing his head "Your wrist and fingers will still need splinting but I'll need to construct something more severe for your hand. It will take a little while and this will hurt I'm afraid"

Her husband's face hardened as Sansa's stomach twisted. She was glad he'd chosen to try and fix his hand properly – she just wished it wasn't going to cause him more pain.

"I'm sorry" said Sansa "you don't deserve any of this"

"It's not your fault" said Tyrion, adding quietly "it was Gawan who had the hammer"

Sansa's stomach dropped and even Wolkan flinched at the words. She could almost imagine Gawan's wild face twisted in glee as he broke Tyrion's hand. A wave of guilt rolled through her. It had been three weeks and they still hadn't caught the monsters that hurt her husband so badly. More than anything she wanted their heads – if only to reassure Tyrion they were dead and couldn't hurt him. Instead she was going to have to tell Tyrion the truth sooner or later; that she'd failed to bring his captors to justice.

* * *

Strolling into her sister's chambers, Arya was pleased to see both Tyrion and Sansa already sat at the table waiting for her.

"Sister, brother" she greeted, dropping into a seat opposite them

"Nice of you to join us" said Sansa, quirking an eyebrow "we thought we were going to have to start without you"

"I wouldn't miss dinner" she said, turning her gaze to Tyrion "how did it go with Wolkan?"

She was pleased to see Tyrion looking more like himself; wearing a new tunic and breeches, although his arm was still in a sling and his face was pinched in pain.

"He's cleared me to leave the bed" said Tyrion

"Slowly and with help" added Sansa

"That's a good start" said Arya, grinning at her brother "Back on your feet in no time"

The door creaked opened and servants hurried in setting out various dishes of food for them. Sansa had thought a family dinner might be nice since Tyrion was allowed out of bed and Arya had happily agreed. Though looking at the discomfort on his face she wondered if it was a good idea right now.

"You ok Tyrion?" she asked

"I'm fine" he said, gripping at the table with his good hand

"You don't look fine"

"It's his hand" said Sansa, watching him with concern "some of the bones weren't healing properly so the Maester is trying a different treatment"

"It's a different splint that's pushing the bones towards their natural alignment. It's quite an interesting technique and rarely used - but the pressure it puts on the break…is rather uncomfortable" explained Tyrion, reaching for his fork

"He means agonising" corrected Sansa

"It sounds it" agreed Arya "Are you sure you're up to dinner?"

"Yes, I'm fine" he said, forcing a smile "it's nice to get out of bed"

Arya didn't believe he was fine and Sansa clearly didn't either, nonetheless Tyrion was determined to join them for dinner and the spread looked delicious. Different varieties of meat and vegetables were laid out for them and Arya was about to tuck in when she noticed a problem. How was Tyrion going to cut his food with only one hand? For the past week or so he'd been living off broth and different soups - this would be his first proper meal for weeks. Glancing at her brother, he appeared to have been struck by the same thought as he sat eyeing his knife sadly.

"Here, let me fill your plate" said Sansa, quickly seizing the dish

Tyrion slid down in his chair, bracing for the fact Sansa was going to have to cut his food. To both their surprise she returned his plate a moment later and the food was already cut to pieces. Arya looked closer at the spread and noticed all of the food was pre-cut into small pieces.

"There you go" said Sansa "enjoy"

The little Lannister's face lit up as he realised all of the food was pre-cut, turning a grateful smile to Sansa "Thank you"

"You're very welcome" she said, returning his smile

Arya's heart warmed at her sister's thoughtfulness. It was nice to see the growing closeness between them. Over the past week Arya had noticed Tyrion often looking to Sansa for reassurance, whereas before he'd hide his face from them both. It was exactly what he needed - the love of a family. Little by little he was letting them in and accepting his place in their family.

It was what Sansa needed too. Caring for Tyrion had rid her of the Queen of ice persona that had hidden the real Sansa Stark for so long. Her obvious love for her husband had brought out the best in her sister; a side Arya hadn't seen since childhood.

"So Tyrion" she started, spearing a piece of meat with her fork "Why's your hair all fluffy?"

Redness crept up his neck as he turned accusingly to Sansa "I told you Arya would notice"

"I knew that oil would do wonders for your hair"

Arya snorted "You let her near your hair? Gods that must have been Sansa's dream come true"

"It was" agreed Sansa, brushing a hand through his golden curls "so soft now"

Turning back to Tyrion, Arya dropped her voice to a whisper "You do realise Sansa's had a thing for curly hair since childhood? She asked Jon once if she could play with his, but he said no"

A faint blush tinged her sister's cheeks "Everyone complained I ignored Jon, and the one time I didn't he refused to play with me"

"She tricked me into it Arya" said Tyrion, mouth twitching upwards "I'm the victim in all this"

Sansa smirked at her husband "Rest assured my love - I will certainly victimise you again"

"Even Lyon keeps giving me funny looks"

Arya turned in her seat to find the direwolf drinking from his water bowl in the corner, head tilted to one side as he gazed at his master.

"I think you're right" said Arya, laughing at the expression on the wolf's face

"He's only jealous" said Sansa, nudging Tyrion "We can give him a bath too - then you'll both be soft and fluffy"

"You can't do that to him! When he goes hunting the prey will laugh at him - he needs to be taken seriously as a direwolf"

Lightness filled Arya as she listened to Sansa and Tyrion continue their gentle teasing. There was much to look forward to with Tyrion's name day and Bran's visit, but the fact Robin and Gawan had yet to face justice cast a shadow over their family. Arya forced a smile, clearing the thought. They would face justice sooner or later - for now she would focus on her family and making sure Tyrion recovered.

* * *

Sansa sank into her chair, fighting down the despair that was threatening to overwhelm her. It was easy enough to push down her fears when she was with Tyrion and focus solely on him - but when her duties as Queen demanded her attention, fear of rebellion nearly overwhelmed her.

Once again she found herself sat in Arya's room going through her old correspondence and reviewing her decisions as Queen. She worked alone tonight as Arya had left following dinner to do something or other that she wouldn't explain. She'd left Tyrion resting in their room with one of his friends; a man called Alec who had come to visit him. With her husband occupied she'd thrown herself back into the search for anything that could be used by Robin and Gawan to incite a rebellion against her.

The meeting with Karlon Mazin had rattled her. The young man had been full of contempt for her over her dismissal of his family's pleas for help. Truthfully she couldn't recall even reading any letters from house Mazin, though she did remember not having the time to see a representative of their house in court. She was one person - she couldn't do everything all of the time. Choices had to be made and thankfully Tyrion had dealt with whatever issue they'd had.

Her mind wandered to Arya's proposal of sharing the work load with a council. There was a definite need to ease her work but trusting the North to others was unthinkable - she wasn't sure she could trust anyone other than Arya and Tyrion. The longer she worked the more stress continued to pile on top of her, threatening to crush her under the heavy load.

There were so many worries. She hated having Grey Worm in the dungeon and knowing Robin and Gawan were still out there haunted her every thought. Rumours of rebellion had her on edge, seeing traitors in every corner. For the first time since becoming Queen, Sansa wanted to throw her crown away - it was just too heavy.

* * *

Bran's litter groaned and strained over the rough terrain – not that the King felt any of it as he flew overhead. Through the raven's eyes he watched as his procession of guards travelled towards Winterfell. They'd already been travelling for a week, and having to use a litter made their journey slower than if they were all on horseback. Nonetheless, in two weeks' time they would be in Winterfell.

He soared lower, flying just over head of Bronn and Brienne – both engaged in their mutual hobby of bickering.

"Way I see it, if it's life or death everyone makes the same choice. You wanna live you do anything you have to" said Bronn

Brienne's face was incredulous "So, if it was between your life or the lives of ten innocent children – you'd condemn them to die and save yourself?"

"Of course I would" snorted Bronn "Ain't no-one else gonna save me"

"You're unbelievable. Surely when you were knighted you made the same oath as every other anointed knight?"

"Aye, I did. Nice words they was too"

"You make no attempt to honour them though" said Brienne, gritting her teeth "You dishonour the person who knighted you"

Bronn turned to the lord commander "You know who knighted me? The good King Joffrey, after the battle of Blackwater. You think I feel bad for dishonouring the little shit?"

"Still, you're a lord now – it wouldn't kill you to honour the position"

"We don't know that. You know what happens to honourable men? They die. Ask Tyrion when you see him. He led the charge out of the mud gate and one of the Kings Guard tried to kill him"

Brienne dropped her gaze as her horse trotted along "Yes, Podrick told me about that"

"There you have it. Tyrion tried to be honourable even though he was serving his bastard of a nephew and look what it got him. A trial where everyone lined up to condemn the poor sod" said Bronn with a shrug

"Everyone condemned him and you didn't bother to speak up on his behalf"

"I like me more than I like him" said Bronn "his family were gonna be the death of him one way or another"

Bran flew past them as their discussion lapsed back into hypothetical what ifs. They couldn't be more different, but that was part of the reason he'd asked them both to join his council. Bronn's ruthlessness had its uses as did Brienne's honour – depending on the situation. Ser Davos was riding near the front of the group chatting amicably to some of the men.

Reluctantly, Bran returned to himself – his sworn shield sat opposite him. It was easy to loose himself when he flew, but the longer he stayed the harder it was to return. His mind could fly – but his body was a prison.

"Everything alright, Ser Podrick?"

The young man jumped in surprise, his back straightening in alertness.

"Yes, your Grace" he said "We seem to be making good progress"

"What do you think of honour?"

"I don't understand, your Grace"

"Brienne is very honourable, Bronn is very realistic. Which are you?"

Podrick's face grew tight at the question "I...Ser Brienne taught me how to be a knight...honour is everything in a good knight"

Bran smiled at Podrick. Of course he would defend Brienne. Pod was loyal above all else, and that was why he'd asked him to be sworn shield. He would undoubtedly make a great Kings Guard as he had originally wished to be, but Bran had refused him. Somehow it didn't quite fit.

* * *

Sansa rubbed her temples in an effort to ward of her growing headache. Lord Manderly and lord Glover had both been invited to Winterfell to celebrate the signing of the trade deal when Bran arrived in just under two weeks' time - and they'd both refused to come. She'd been incredibly reluctant to invite lord Glover given what his son had done and his refusal to help in the hunt for him, but maintaining a harmonious image was crucial for the North's stability. His reply had been biting, once again demanding she withdraw the accusations against Gawan and apologise. Lord Manderly's reply had at least been courteous, simply claiming he was unable to make it - but she could see through his words. He was standing beside Robett Glover, and the two were undoubtedly exchanging correspondence. House Manderly would not support her until she'd apologised for offending house Glover, of that she was certain.

Following the letter of rebellion that had been sent to house Mazin, Sansa had sent men to the Dreadfort on the off chance they could find Robin and Gawan hiding there. A raven had come in today declaring there had been no success and the men were on their way back. She'd suspected as much. The letter to lord Mazin had said to send a reply to the Dreadfort but Robin wasn't stupid enough to be hiding in the abandoned castle. Heaviness settled over her as she finished writing another letter demanding the capture of her former friends. She glanced around her desk searching for her seal.

"Looking for something?" asked Tyrion, propped up in the bed with a book balanced on his lap

At his words, little paws padded across the room depositing her drool covered direwolf seal at her feet.

"You left it on the stand" said Tyrion, smiling at her "Lyon wanted to help - and show you his new trick"

"Oh" she said, wiping the wetness off it "Thank you"

"Lyon, greet Sansa"

The golden direwolf straightened up on his hind legs, his front paws held in front of him as he let out a bark.

"Very good" she said, turning back to her letter

Lyon dropped back to all fours staring up at her. When the little creature didn't move, Sansa tore her gaze from her work once more, turning to look at Tyrion.

"Do you need something?" she asked

His smile faded "No Sansa, I'm fine"

Her gaze swept over him. He seemed ok sat in the bed, awkwardly trying to read the heavy book he'd asked Nessa to bring him. Tiredness hung over his face and she suspected the pain in his hand was bothering him.

"Your hand is hurting you" she said with a sigh "Do you want something for the pain?"

"No thank you"

Truthfully, she had no idea why Tyrion refused to take anything for his pain. They'd offered him milk of the poppy or something weaker, but he was adamant that he was fine and Sansa found she lacked the energy to convince him otherwise.

"If you want to sit there in pain, that's your choice" she said "I have offered you"

"I know Sansa" he said, fiddling with the edge of the book "Do you need anything?"

"I need to finish this" she said, turning away from him and back to her work

A soft growl reached her ears, and she looked down in time to see Lyon shoot away from her and scramble onto the bed next to Tyrion. There was so much to do, she didn't have time to pet Lyon nor did the wolf particularly enjoy her attention when she did give it him. Her anxiety over the situation in the North grew every day, with the replies from lord Manderly and lord Glover only adding to it.

* * *

Tyrion stumbled along the corridor, leaning on Sansa far more than he wanted to. Just after breakfast she'd decided to take him for a stroll along the corridor. The past two days he'd been making short trips around their chambers, but today was the first time he'd actually left the room in weeks. His ankle ached with each step, but it was nothing compared to the agony in his hand. Wolkan had said the treatment would hurt, but the violent aching that enveloped the limb bothered him throughout the day and night in equal measure. Sansa and the Maester kept offering him something for the pain but he wouldn't take it. Whatever medicine he took always made his nightmares worse - the imagery cruel and aggressive. He knew Sansa thought it was just stubbornness, but he hated the things he saw in his sleep. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the pain his mind could inflict on him.

"Come on" said Sansa "there's a bench up here"

He sank gratefully onto the bench, turning to look out the window at the snow covered courtyard.

"The snow is quite beautiful when you get used to it" he said "it's hard to remember what Winterfell was like when I came with King Robert. I'm fairly sure it was cold - but not covered in snow like now"

When Sansa didn't reply, he turned back to see her stood a little way from him - lost in thought.

"Sansa, are you alright?"

"Fine" she said, crossing her arms "Ready to go back?"

His heart sank as she quickly moved to lead him back to their chambers, crouching down to take some of his weight. It was nice to leave the room he'd spent so long trapped in, but they'd only been out for a few minutes. Still, he made no complaint as Sansa helped him back to their room. He bit his lip considering Sansa. The past day or so she'd grown distant and Tyrion had started to wonder if he'd done something wrong. He knew caring for him was a burden, no matter what Sansa said…had she grown tired of him?

Tyrion didn't mean to bother Sansa, but he found himself growing increasingly attached to her. The past few weeks she'd seemed to enjoy being close to him too, but if she wanted space or didn't enjoy his company he didn't want to trouble her either.

* * *

A grin split across Arya's face as Tyrion walked into her room, Sansa's arm wrapped tightly around him for support. The hearth was burning merrily at one side of the room, as the mid afternoon sun lit up the space.

"Good to see you on your feet Tyrion" she said, moving towards them

"Yes" he said, panting somewhat "though I fear my progress is rather slow"

"It's still progress" she said

A little bark echoed around the room as Lyon trotted in after them.

"I hope you don't mind another visitor" said Tyrion "He followed us here"

"Of course not" she said, bending down to stroke the wolf "Hello Lyon"

Sansa tapped her foot as she held her husband upright "Where do you want Tyrion to sit?"

"Over at the table" she said, gesturing to one of the chairs by the window "I thought we could play a game"

Arya's eyes narrowed at her sister as she quickly led him to the table. Why was she in such a hurry to leave? Tyrion had apparently left their room for a very quick walk yesterday but this was the furthest he'd been able to go. She thought Sansa would want to celebrate his achievement, but she seemed in a poor mood.

Tyrion's face lit up as he saw the cyvasse board on the table "You play cyvasse?"

"Oh I play, the question is; do you?"

"Challenge accepted" he said, dropping into one chair as Arya took her place in the other

"Do you want to stay and play Sansa?" she asked, turning to her older sister

The Queen looked distracted as she answered "I've no idea how"

"I can teach you" offered Tyrion, smiling hopefully at her "Then we can both beat Arya"

"It's good to dream big brother"

Something was off with Sansa. She seemed in a hurry to leave Tyrion and be gone, whereas the past few weeks she'd refused to leave his side. Even a few days ago she was fretting over him like a mother hen.

Her sister shook her head "Another time - I have things that need my attention"

"Of course" said Tyrion, face falling slightly "Thank you for helping me here"

"I'll leave you to your game" she said "Arya will help you back later"

Tyrion gazed up at Sansa expectantly, hurt flickering across his face as she left without another word. Her brother dropped his gaze to the game board, toying with one of the pieces. Sansa's sudden coldness over the last couple of days was as unsettling as it was unexpected. Tyrion seemed as surprised by the change in behaviour as Arya was, but it took her a moment to realise what had hurt him. When she did, her heart ached.

Sansa hadn't kissed him goodbye.

Arya had noticed her sister's habit which had developed since Tyrion returned. She never left her husband without giving him that token of affection, normally accompanied by reminding him of her love. Whether consciously or not Tyrion had come to rely on the reassuring gesture - and had apparently noticed its absence. Sympathy swelled in her for Tyrion. Sansa had doted on him the past few weeks and her sudden distance had clearly unsettled him. The last thing they needed was for Sansa to retreat behind her walls of ice once more. It had taken Tyrion's kidnapping and near death to draw her out.

At the same time, Sansa needed to recognise her own behaviour and Tyrion needed to be comfortable enough with his wife to point it out - she wasn't always going to be here. Arya would keep an eye on her sister though. Tyrion wasn't well and if he needed her to step in with Sansa she would gladly do so, but Arya hoped Sansa would recognise how damaging her behaviour could be to what she was building with Tyrion. Throughout her traumatic years since leaving Winterfell, it was obvious her sister had developed unhealthy coping mechanisms, but only Sansa could change them.

"Are you ready to play?" asked Tyrion, fiddling half-heartedly with one of the figures

"Depends - are you ready to lose?"

He tried a smile but his discomfort was obvious as he sat stiffly opposite her.

"Is your hand still hurting?" she asked

"Its fine" he said with a shrug "Maester Wolkan said the first week would be the worst"

"I'm sorry"

"It's not your fault"

Arya smiled sadly at him "Yeah, but you didn't deserve any of this"

"It's over now" he said shifting uncomfortably "It's been a long time since I played cyvasse"

"Well I certainly won't be going easy on you"

"I'd expect nothing less"

Arya let Tyrion start the game, though her mind was far from focused on it. It was easy to brush aside what he'd suffered now he was recovering and his mood had picked up somewhat, but they couldn't afford to forget he still wasn't well. His body would heal in time, but his mind needed to be treated delicately. They'd made good progress, and Arya wouldn't let that be set back. Sansa had made a lot of progress too with many of her long repressed emotions coming to the surface. If Sansa slipped back behind her ice walls, Tyrion would close off from them once more - of that Arya had no doubt.

* * *

A hollow ache rose in Tyrion's chest as he wound his fingers tightly into Lyon's fur. Sansa had barely spoken to him all day, consumed in her work as she was. He didn't want to bother her but she had seemed out of sorts the past couple of days. Her smiles had grown fewer as the warmth she'd once eagerly given him frosted over. He'd tried to cheer her up - seeing Sansa sad always hurt him.

This morning he'd asked if they could go for a walk, but she'd left him in bed - distractedly telling him later. He didn't mind if she was busy. He could sit in the bed. It didn't bother him that she hadn't helped him get dressed either - at least he could wear the bed clothes Esther had sent him. Throughout the morning he'd made several attempts to talk to Sansa but after she didn't answer his last attempt he'd given up. She was busy now, it would be better later.

Lunch had come and gone without any food, though Sansa did leave their chambers for a time. It didn't matter - he wasn't hungry. She returned to their chambers and resumed her work without even sparing him a glance. His stomach twisted in knots as the day crept on.

What had he done wrong?

Everything had been fine between them a couple of days ago, now it was all different. At some point Lyon had joined him on the bed and he sat stroking his friend as his mind combed through everything he'd said and done the past couple of days. There had to be something he'd done wrong.

Had Sansa got bored of him?

His thoughts turned increasingly dark as dinner also came and went without any change. He'd screwed this up somehow. Tyrion's throat grew tight as he looked across at the fiery haired Queen. It was hard to tell from the bed but it looked as though she'd fallen asleep in the armchair. The pain in his hand was getting worse too, a violent throbbing that spread like fire throughout the broken limb.

Lyon seemed to sense his distress, nudging against him and licking his face. He appreciated his little friend more than ever, but even his attentions couldn't make up for the growing hole in his heart. Sansa had spent the last few weeks repeatedly expressing her love for him and like a fool he'd started to believe it.

_'I told you so'_ taunted his mind _'Who could ever love you?'_

Tyrion didn't want to believe that dark voice, but the evidence was mounting up. Sansa wanted nothing to do with him. All day he'd sat forgotten in bed, trying not to bother her. Tears burned at his eyes - what had he done wrong?

* * *

_"The Queen in the North no longer" declared Gawan, tearing the crown from her head and tossing it aside_

_She was on her knees outside the gate of Winterfell, her shoulders shaking at the takeover of her home. A huge crowd of Northerners surrounded her, laughing and jeering at the pathetic state of their fallen Queen. Sansa took in shuddering breaths as tears streamed down her face - this was like Kings Landing all over again. She was nothing, she had no power; she was only a pawn to be used and tossed aside._

_"Hail the new ruler of the North; King Robin Flint" shouted Gawan as the crowd parted to let her former friend through._

_He wore fine clothes with a newly made crown sat atop his sharp face. A smirk twisted his mouth as the crowd eagerly began chanting for the King in the North. Gawan stood to his side, bouncing up and down in excitement._

_"Show her Robin" he urged, grinning manically at her_

_Sansa wanted to curl up and die. She'd defended the North and bought them independence; and they'd tossed her aside like she was nothing._

_"I intend to be a just King for the people - and will rule the North far better than the Starks. Their days are done; the wolves are dead!" shouted Robin, to huge applause_

_Icy fear slithered through Sansa at his words as several guards strode from behind the new King, dragging something between them. The men tossed what they were carrying before her and Sansa shrank back in terror at the sight that met her eyes._

_No, it couldn't be…_

_"No, no, no" she pleaded, denying the horrid image_

_"Oh yes" sang Gawan, stepping closer "I enjoyed killing your sister; she never liked me very much"_

_Arya's lifeless eyes stared up at her, her throat cut to the bone._

_Bile clawed up Sansa's throat, as she reached towards her dead sister._

_"Arya" she said, voice trembling "I'm so sorry"_

_"The wolves reign is over" said Robin, cruel eyes glinting as the crowd laughed around her "soon they will all be dead – just like the lions"_

_Sansa's heart stopped as more guards appeared and tossed a small body next to Arya's. Unlike her sister, Tyrion was beaten nearly beyond recognition. His body was bent and twisted, with blood coating most of him. What remained of his clothes was nothing more than rags._

_"Tyrion" she sobbed, scrambling towards him_

_"Killing Arya was fun but nowhere near as fun as playing with your pet lion" said Gawan moving closer_

_As her hand brushed his face, Tyrion's green eyes fluttered open – filled with pain._

_"Sansa" he croaked "you promised..."_

_"Tyrion" she whispered, tears cascading down her face "I'm so sorry"_

_"promised...to protect me"_

_"I'm sorry" she begged "stay with me"_

_"Enough of that" said Gawan, looming over them_

_Sansa threw herself forwards to shield Tyrion with her own body, but rough hands grasped hold of her pulling her away._

_"No! Tyrion, no – leave him alone" she begged as the crowd's jeers grew louder_

_"As the King in the North, I hereby sentence Tyrion Lannister to death" said Robin, nodding at Gawan_

_The young lord Glover dropped to one knee next to her broken husband and roughly grasped his hair lifting his head up._

_"It's been fun but your time has come Lannister" said Gawan, flashing a grin as he lifted a knife to Tyrion's throat_

_"No. Mercy, please! No, no" she sobbed as the knife was dragged slowly across her husband's throat, unleashing a flood of red as Tyrion's warm eyes turned cold_

Sansa moaned in her dream as something wet brushed against her face.

"Sansa!" called a familiar voice

She jerked awake to see green eyes staring up at her, her face wet with drool.

"Lyon?"

She'd fell asleep in an armchair next to the hearth, piles of work spread around her. The direwolf was sitting on top of her, in the midst of licking her awake. His mission complete, Lyon jumped off her and trotted back towards the bed.

"Sansa, are you alright?"

She turned to see Tyrion staggering towards her, having somehow pulled himself from bed.

"Stay right there" she ordered, pushing herself quickly from the chair and seizing hold of Tyrion

Her husband was trembling where he stood but had made it nearly halfway from the bed to her. Looping her arm around him she supported his weight and brought him to sit on the chaise opposite the hearth. His breathing was heavy as he sank onto the chair, while Sansa stood glowering down at him.

"You're not supposed to move without help" she said, crossing her arms

He shrank under her gaze "I know…but you were so upset"

"You could have hurt yourself!"

"I'm sorry…"

Fear and anxiety collided, turning her tone sharp "Do you want to end up sick again?"

"No I-"

"You said you don't want to end up a cripple, and then do the one thing you were told not to!"

"You've seemed stressed the past couple of days, and you were crying in your sleep" he whispered, dropping his gaze "I wanted to help you"

Sansa rolled her shoulders, pent up tension bubbling through her. The image of her dream was horrible enough, but waking to find Tyrion so close to hurting himself had rattled her even more.

"I'm not stressed and you don't need to help me" she said, voice hardening

"Have I done something to upset you? Before now I mean" he asked quietly

"Why would you think that?"

Tyrion wouldn't look at her, instead staring at the floor "It's just…you've…I mean"

"I've what?" she said, grinding her teeth "Why do you look so afraid of me? I'm not going to hit you for sevens sake!"

His face froze at her harsh tone, but Sansa was unable to stop her own fear and stress from escaping her.

"I don't have time to play games like you and Arya. Either tell me what's bothering you or go back to bed!"

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth she wished she could take them back. Tyrion's face crumpled as she spoke, hurt shining from his green eyes.

"Oh, Tyrion I-"

"Why should I?" he snapped, eyes suddenly blazing "You don't tell me what bothers you! You don't tell me anything"

She stood rooted to the spot, all of the worries that had seemed so significant before fading to nothing in the face of Tyrion's anguish.

"You tell me I'm your husband - that this is home, but you've barely spoken to me for the last couple of days!"

Sansa jerked backwards as though slapped "Tyrion I-"

"I never asked for any of this!" he said, voice rising "You brought me here. You wanted me here. I'd made peace with death in Kings Landing - and in the Wolfswood! I was ready to die but you promised you loved me, and as soon as I start to believe that you push me away"

"I do love you" she pleaded, her heart breaking at the pain in his face "more than anything - I love you"

Tyrion screwed his eyes shut at her words, drawing in a shuddering breath.

"You say I have nothing to be ashamed of - that they didn't break me in the Wolfswood. How do you expect me to believe that, when you don't?"

"I don't understand, please-"

Tyrion's tears spilled from his eyes, voice growing quiet "Do you really think I haven't noticed how you all avoid mentioning anything work related around me? Before they hurt me you asked my advice on a lot of things, but not anymore. You don't trust me now"

"No! Tyrion, I trust you more than anyone else in the world" she protested

"Were you ever going to tell me those vicious bastards were still out there?"

Sansa paled "Of course I was going to tell you..."

The anger left his face as suddenly as it came, replaced by a deep rooted sadness.

"I know I'm not the lord of Winterfell anymore. I understand – I really do. After what happened it wouldn't be proper. I don't care if you never asked for my help with your work again" he said, voice breaking "None of that mattered because...I still had you. Now I don't even have that!"

"I'm yours Tyrion, always yours" she promised

He shook his head "You don't want me anymore. I knew this would happen – it always happen"

Sansa was at a loss. She'd regretted her thoughtless words as soon as she'd said them, but she never imagined it would unleash such emotion in Tyrion.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked; red rimmed eyes gazing up at her "I must have done something wrong"

"You've not done anything wrong" she said, a lump forming in her throat

"I've messed it up somehow. I always do. Why else would you turn so cold towards me so suddenly?" he said, tears racing down his face "The other day everything seemed...so good"

Tyrion's words cut her like a knife, slashing through her defences and exposing the truth. Her heart constricted at the realisation – Tyrion was right. He was recovering more each day and her mind had wandered back to her duties as Queen, unknowingly retreating behind the mask of ice she'd worn for so long. The behaviour was so deeply ingrained she hadn't even been aware she was doing it until confronted with the consequences.

A lump formed in her throat as Tyrion sat quietly crying before her, his good hand wiping furiously at his face to hide the tears. Since she'd been gifted a second chance with Tyrion, Sansa had worked tirelessly to make amends and win his trust. It had been working - everyday they seemed to get a little closer. Yet her sudden return to the Queen of ice had made a liar of every reassurance she'd told him. Casting doubt where she'd worked hard to vanquish it.

_'I don't want to be alone anymore'_

He'd told her that a few times since returning to Winterfell, and she'd promised he never would be. A promise she'd broken. Shielding herself from the ever growing pressure of ruling had left Tyrion alone in the cold, wondering what had extinguished the warmth he'd come to know. Sansa was suddenly aware that she hadn't moved or spoken; instead she stood staring at her distressed husband.

Wasting no more time she dropped onto the chaise next to Tyrion, reaching out to take him in her arms.

"I'm so sorry Tyrion" she said, her heart aching when he leaned away from her

"Don't bother pretending" he sniffed "I know its pity now"

"No it's not" she said firmly, clamping her arms tightly around him

He squirmed in her grasp, but Sansa had to apologise – to make him understand. She pressed a long kiss to his head, pulling him closer.

"I am so sorry my love" she said "You're right – I have been pushing you away. I didn't even realise I was doing it until you pointed it out. I'm sorry for snapping at you. Work has me stressed, not you. I shouldn't have taken it out on you"

He sat stiffly in her embrace; face turned away from her "Its fine Sansa. I shouldn't have said any of that to you. Do you want me to go now?"

"Go where?"

"Away" he said with a shrug

She tightened her grip, guilt winding through her "No sweetheart, you're not going anywhere. This is home"

"I shouted at you"

"Tyrion, please look at me"

Reluctantly, he turned to face her. The anger had gone from his eyes, replaced by a deep rooted fear. Sansa rubbed her hand over his back, keeping him against her.

"This is your home. I'm not going to throw you out because you're upset – which you have every right to be. You will never be sent away, no matter what"

"I'm being selfish. You're a Queen; you have plenty of responsibilities without me burdening you. I'm sorry"

"Don't apologise" she said fiercely "this is my fault – not yours. Pushing you away is the last thing I would want to do. I love you, and having you close to me has made me happier than you could ever know"

Silence fell between them and Sansa continued trying to soothe him to no avail. It was as she rubbed his back she noticed he was wearing the bed clothes Esther had sent him. Her brow furrowed trying to recall getting him ready for bed. It was well past dinner but there was still some light outside – too early to have helped him dress for sleep. Surely, she hadn't forgotten to help him dress this morning?

Panic seized her and she rapidly analysed the day, hoping it wasn't true. She remembered Tyrion asking this morning if they could go for a walk and she vaguely recalled telling him later. Her stomach rolled violently as the implication sank in. She'd left him in bed all day. Had he even eaten? She'd left their chambers for a while to sort some work out and had grabbed a quick snack - never sparing a thought for Tyrion. They normally ate together as he still needed some help. Sansa had been working at the desk most of the day and recalled Tyrion trying to make conversation with her this morning, but the more she considered it he'd grown even quieter than usual over the course of the day – silently holding Lyon on the bed.

"We never went for a walk, did we?" she said, her stomach rolling as he shook his head. Tyrion never asked her for anything and the one thing he did ask for she'd refused "You've not eaten all day either"

"It doesn't matter" he said, finally lifting his head to look at her.

"Of course it matters"

His green eyes were watery and filled with self-hatred as he met her gaze "I'm so sorry Sansa. I never meant to worry you, or complain…You do so much for me and I…I hate not being able to do anything for you. When I heard you crying in your sleep…I thought maybe I could help. When I have nightmares you're always there for me"

Sansa wasn't sure it was possible to feel any worse. He'd left the bed to try and comfort her - and she'd scolded him like a naughty child.

"I never should have spoken to you like that" she said "You're right Tyrion. I always ask you to tell me what's bothering you, and I don't do the same with you"

He was still crying as she rubbed his back, despite his attempts to stop the tears. This was a long time coming, she realised. It was stupid to think just because he'd forgiven her so easily he didn't have some buried anger over his situation. Her sudden coldness to him had more than likely brought it to the surface. Watching Tyrion, his face twisted in pain as he rubbed at his bandaged arm. Like a lion with a thorn in its paw - the pain in his hand was clearly wearing him down.

"Can I get you something for the pain?" she asked "Your hand is really hurting you, isn't it?"

"It's fine" he said, gritting his teeth

"Why won't you have any medicine? It'll make you feel better"

She had to strain to hear his quiet reply "Makes my dreams worse"

"I'm sorry Tyrion" she said, making a note to speak to Wolkan about it tomorrow "I had no idea that was why you wouldn't take the medicine. I thought it was some kind of male pride"

A bitter smile crossed his face "I have no pride left"

Sansa deflated, pulling him against her again. She needed to talk to him about Robin and Gawan, and everything else he'd said but it was increasingly obvious he wasn't up for a talk like that tonight. That could be dealt with tomorrow, now the most pressing concern was apologising for her behaviour and reassuring Tyrion. She didn't want to let this melancholy cling to him. The past week he'd seemed happier than he had in a long time and she hated that her behaviour had upset that.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" she asked, offering him a smile "It's not that late, we can go and see Arya if you like"

Tyrion shook his head, his gaze distant as he stared at the crackling hearth.

"What book have you been reading? I can read to you"

"No, thank you Sansa" he said, voice hoarse "I think…I should go to bed"

Her face fell "Ok sweetheart. Is there nothing I can do for you?"

"No, I'm fine"

Her heart crumbled as she moved to help Tyrion back to bed. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she guided him to the edge of the chaise, lightly kissing his head as she helped him stand. He was shaking more than usual and trying not to lean on her as they made their way across the room. Tyrion said nothing as she helped him into bed, though his pale, tear stained face spoke volumes. Rather than let him lie down, she quickly propped the pillow behind him settling him against it. He didn't comment on the position, though he started to fidget nervously with his sling.

Sansa sat on the edge of the bed, taking hold of his fidgeting hand and rubbing circles on the back of it.

"I'm sorry I've been so cold to you the past couple of days. Pushing you away is the last thing I would ever want to do. Tomorrow I'll tell you everything that's been going on, I promise"

"You don't have to do that Sansa" he said, eyes downcast "I don't care about any of that - I care about you"

Warmth spread through her at his words "I know you do"

"I hate seeing you unhappy. I could never make you happy in Kings Landing either"

"I wasn't happy in Kings Landing" she admitted, squeezing his hand "but you were the only person in a long time that made me feel safe and protected. There are a lot of things worrying me at the moment - and I should have shared them with you. Please understand; I was only trying to protect you Tyrion. You suffered so much I didn't want to add to it"

"I'm supposed to be your husband" he said, staring at the bed "I could help you"

"You are my husband and I'd very much like your help - if you're still willing?"

The ghost of a smile flitted across his face "Always"

She leaned forwards gently pulling Tyrion into a hug, her heart fluttering when he hesitantly returned it.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?" she said, not wanting to let go "I can hold you while you rest if you like?"

"No thank you" he murmured "I just…need to sleep"

The rejection was expected but it still stung somewhat. She squeezed him against her, pressing a lingering kiss to his head before pulling back.

Uncertain green eyes looked up at her as she helped him settle down to sleep.

"Are you ok?" he ventured "Your dream…seemed terrible"

The dark images drifted through her mind, sending a shudder through her.

"It was horrible" she admitted "Arya was dead…and you were killed in front of me. I tried to protect you, but I couldn't - I failed you again"

"You've never failed me"

She gazed fondly at her husband. Her actions however unintentional had hurt him badly, shaking the fragile trust building between them - but he still wanted to comfort her.

"I wish that was true" she said, brushing her hand through his hair "I'll do whatever it takes to protect you though - I promise you that"

"I know you will" he said, offering her a sad smile "I just wished you'd let me protect you too"

Sansa's eyes burned with unshed tears as a wide smile crossed her face. How she loved Tyrion. No matter how much pain he was in, her little lion was always concerned about her welfare first. Tucking the covers tightly around him, she kissed his forehead as she rose from the bed.

"Sleep well Tyrion. I love you so very much - please don't ever doubt that"

As she moved away Lyon trotted past her, climbing next to Tyrion on the bed. The direwolf seemed to glare at her before snuggling against his master.

His message was loud and clear 'You've done enough, let me handle him'

It was as she sank back into an armchair by the hearth, a whisper so faint she could have imagined it drifted to her ears.

"I love you too"

* * *

When Tyrion awoke the next morning it was to an empty bed - apart from Lyon who was drooling all over him. He stroked the wolf's back wondering how big he would eventually get. Both Arya and Sansa had told him Lyon seemed smaller than their wolves had been, but Tyrion didn't care if his friend was little like him. His initial fear of the direwolf had long ago dissolved and he couldn't imagine life without Lyon anymore. Green eyes blinked up at him a moment later, a little bark echoing around the room.

"Good morning to you too" he said, as the wolf stretched and moved off him

Pushing himself up until he was leaning against the headboard, Tyrion found himself at a loss. He'd never meant to snap at Sansa like he had last night. She'd been moaning and crying as she dozed in the armchair - he'd only wanted to see if she was ok. When she'd started berating him, a torrent of long withheld emotion had escaped. His face burned recalling the things he'd said before sobbing like a spoilt child. If Sansa didn't hate him before she must now.

Yet she'd been nothing but kind to him as he broke down. Whatever ice she'd shown him had instantly dissolved giving way to the warmth he'd come to depend on. Her abrupt coldness had hurt more than Gawan with the hammer and Tyrion had feared he'd somehow lost her love, but she'd been quick to reassure him last night. His outburst surely seemed ridiculous to her – he'd wanted to tell Sansa the truth. It was a truth he was only just starting to accept, but Sansa's sudden distance from him had left him in no doubt.

He loved Sansa - denying it any longer was pointless.

When she'd helped him to bed and kissed him goodnight, she'd told him she loved him – as she often did. Last night he'd wanted to return the sentiment, but his words had deserted him until she'd already left his side. Why was it so hard to get the words out? In the end he'd whispered it when Sansa was likely too far away to hear him. Sansa's distance the past few days had exposed how utterly dependent he'd grown on her – the possibility of losing her had terrified him.

The door creaked open, drawing Tyrion from his thoughts. Sansa slipped into the room, smiling warmly as she saw him awake. A knot of tension unwound at the sight. In the back of his mind he'd feared she would turn cold on him again, but her blue eyes held nothing but tenderness as she came to the bedside.

"Good morning" she said, giving him a quick kiss before perching on the edge of the bed

"Morning" he said, turning away from her kind gaze "About last night, I'm so sorr-"

"Don't you dare apologise" she said, cupping his face "I'm glad you called out my behaviour. Otherwise I would have carried on without even realising what I was doing. There's a lot we need to talk about, but first you need to take your medicine and eat a good breakfast"

"Medicine? Sansa, please – it makes me see horrible things"

"This is different" she promised, pulling out a small package "It won't make you sleep but it should take the edge of the pain. When I explained to Maester Wolkan why you wouldn't take any of the normal ones he understood completely. We just put some of these herbs in with hot water and then you drink it"

Tyrion's throat grew tight "Thank you – my hand has been hurting"

"I know it has. Hopefully this will help" she said "now let's get you ready"

Tyrion kept watching Sansa for signs she was upset over his behaviour last night, but she seemed back to normal as she helped him dress and walked him over to the table. She passed him a cup with the foul smelling new medicine in. He grimaced at the scent but Sansa was watching him expectantly. The taste was no improvement on the smell; seeming to have some kind of grassy texture - but he quickly downed the cup.

"It smelt bad" she said "How did it taste?"

"Absolutely no better"

"Good. Mother always said the worse a medicine tastes the better it is for you"

They hadn't been sat down long when the door opened and two servants entered with plates full of food. The scent of his favourite wafted across to him as the plates were set down.

"Bacon burnt black" he said with a contended sigh "no finer delicacy"

Sansa scrunched her nose "Whatever you enjoy. I'll stick to my unburnt bacon I think"

One of the many things he appreciated about Sansa was her thoughtfulness. Since he'd graduated to eating proper food again she'd clearly given orders to the kitchen staff to pre-cut all the food that was brought to them. While Sansa still had to help him fill his plate, it restored some of his dignity to not have her cutting his food like a child. They ate quietly, though Sansa was quick to pile seconds on his plate when he was nearing the end of his food.

"You didn't eat at all yesterday" she said by way of explanation

"I'm not going to starve because I missed a meal"

"You missed all your meals and I certainly won't let you starve"

He was already quite full, but Sansa was watching him guiltily so he forced down more of the breakfast to appease her. Tyrion knew when he finished Sansa would want to talk to him but he would much rather forget his pathetic outburst last night.

* * *

Sansa thanked the servants as they quickly cleared away the breakfast, the door closing softly behind them until only she and Tyrion remained. Her husband was sat to her right, nervously drumming his fingers against the table. This talk was long overdue, as Tyrion's words last night had shown. Guilt swelled within her recalling how upset he was. Fortunately he seemed much better today and she suspected the pain in his hand had contributed to last night's frustration. Sansa was glad he'd told her how he felt - however angry he was.

The Tyrion she'd known in Kings Landing would have debated with her all night - a wine glass in hand. Sansa knew how to contend with the old Tyrion, but he was so quiet and withdrawn these days she wasn't sure how to handle him anymore. It was as if the armour he'd once worn had been torn away leaving behind someone entirely different. Traces of the old Tyrion remained and she saw them from time to time, but Sansa couldn't fall into the trap of expecting him to act as he once had. He was a different man now and she was fully committed to learning who he was.

_'I love you too'_

The words had been so faint part of her wondered if it had been wishful thinking, but in her heart she knew Tyrion had spoken them. Hearing those words, whether he intended her to hear them or not had filled her with an inexplicable joy - followed swiftly by shame for being the cause of his upset last night. Sansa certainly wasn't going to ask Tyrion to clarify what he'd said. Even if he never said it to her face she knew how much he cared for her; she'd always known.

Glancing at his anxious face, Sansa smiled reassuringly. She hoped this talk would ease some of his insecurities and reaffirm his place in their family.

"We need to talk" she said, drawing his attention "Tyrion, I'm so sorry but you're right – we haven't caught Robin and Gawan yet"

Tyrion's face grew tight "I know"

"Who told you?"

"No-one told me – I figured it out myself" he said with a sigh "You and Arya are both very quick to reassure me they won't hurt me again; that you'll protect me. I appreciate that more than you could ever know, but you've never once told me they were dead. If they were I don't doubt you would have told me immediately and reminded me often. After all it's the biggest reassurance you could give me"

Tyrion had figured it out himself – of course he had. He was the cleverest man she knew; of course he could see through their words. Sansa felt ashamed. Firstly for naively believing he would't figure it out and secondly for not being able to give him the heads of his tormentors.

"I'm so sorry for not telling you" she said, swallowing thickly "I didn't want to worry you and I kept hoping we would capture them before you asked"

"I understand Sansa"

"There's something else. We did capture Grey Worm - he's in the dungeon. He will face justice for what's he done, but there will be a trial first. I don't want you to worry at all, he's under heavy guard and won't get anywhere near you"

Tyrion's face paled "Ah, I saw Arya take him prisoner in the Wolfswood. I wondered what had happened to him"

"Why didn't you ask?"

Sansa already suspected the answer from what he'd said last night, but he'd been so upset she wanted to be certain of his thoughts before proceeding.

Tyrion squirmed uneasily in his chair "I didn't think it was my place anymore"

"Why would you think that? This is your home"

"Well...I've been back for weeks and...everyone is quite careful to not mention anything work related around me" he said, dropping his gaze "Like I said last night - I completely understand. After everything that happened, it wouldn't be proper..."

"What wouldn't be proper?"

"Sansa...I know I'm not the lord of Winterfell anymore"

He'd said as much last night but she hadn't thought he actually believed that - she'd hoped it was just his fears talking.

She stared directly at Tyrion when she answered "Of course you are"

"I can't be Sansa – most of the North must know what happened in the Wolfswood. It would be shameful for me to carry on"

"All of the North knows" she said, watching him flinch "they know exactly the kind of man you are"

Tyrion hung his head "I'm no longer fit to bear that title – not that I ever was"

"Stop that" she said, lightly grasping his face and bringing his gaze to meet hers "You are more than worthy of that title and you will be the lord of Winterfell until the day you die – many, many years from now"

"You said everyone knows..."

"They do know. Word of what you did has spread through the North like wildfire. Everyone knows how brave and strong you are. They all know how the lord of Winterfell heroically saved innocent girls from slavery no matter what it cost him"

Sansa watched Tyrion process her words, hating the doubt that lurked in his eyes. Did he really think they'd stripped him of his title?

_'You made sure he lost his family's titles'_ whispered her guilt

She'd longed for his help and advice these past weeks, but she'd held off asking while he recovered. Sansa had thought she was protecting him, but it had only made him doubt her trust in him. In truth she hadn't realised how much he valued advising her.

Familiar shame twisted her stomach as she brushed her thumb over her husband's cheek "I'm sorry Tyrion – I had no idea you'd taken my silence about the North as not trusting you or losing your position. I told everyone to not mention anything to you until you were well enough to ask yourself. I wasn't trying to keep secrets from you; I just wanted to protect you. When you were stronger I thought you would ask, but you never did. With Bran coming I was going to have to tell you everything even if you didn't ask"

Uncertain green eyes moved up to meet hers "If I'm still the lord of Winterfell, will you let me help you? I assume its issues in the North that have been bothering you. You're not alone Sansa"

"I appreciate that very much Tyrion and I would love your help" she said, smiling warmly at him "You're still recovering though. There is no rush at all to return to your duties - take all the time you need"

"I may be somewhat useless at the moment but I can still do some work. You've been doing everything alone haven't you? Let me help"

Sansa wasn't going to refuse him - his confidence was shattered and stopping him from returning to work wasn't going to help that.

"Alright" she conceded "I'll clear you to return to some duties, but you are by no means going to work as you used to. There will be proper meals and plenty of rest – without exception"

Tyrion's face brightened "Good. Bed rest is quite boring you know"

"Oh, there'll still be plenty of bed rest" she said, letting go of his face "If you're feeling up to it we can go to a meeting with Wolkan and Arya later. We're going over the situation in the North and we'll catch you up on everything then"

"Alright" he agreed "Whatever's troubling you, I'm sure it's nothing - you're a great Queen"

Her stomach churned "I'll agree to disagree on that"

"I rather missed my duties as lord of Winterfell you know. Surprisingly for a Lannister, I've found I like helping the small folk who come before me. They are far more interesting than most of the highborn lords and ladies" he said, mouth turning upwards

"You're an excellent lord and I don't find that at all surprising" she said, taking hold of his hand "Just remember you're only returning to minimal duties for now"

Tyrion grinned at her "As my Queen commands"

"A royal decree" she said, squeezing his hand "the lord of Winterfell must take naps throughout the day and eat at least three meals"

"The lord of Winterfell sounds rather lazy"

"He's not, but he will be if I have my way"

"Plump too - if he eats and naps that much"

"Your clothes won't look so baggy at least"

A little whine drew her attention and she looked down to see Lyon nudging against Tyrion.

"I leave you for a few minutes and you're desperate for attention?" said Tyrion, scratching the wolf behind the ears

Sansa's heart fluttered at the smile on Tyrion's face. She loved it when he was happy and they could have fun with each other. Things between them were back on track, but it didn't erase the lingering guilt for her coldness towards him.

Reaching across she kissed his cheek as Lyon climbed into his lap "I'm glad you're feeling better. I'm sorry for being so cold to you the last couple of days - it won't happen again"

Tyrion rolled his eyes at her, a playful smile tugging at his mouth "I already forgave you Sansa – Lyon on the other hand, might need convincing"

Sansa laughed as a fluffy golden face was shoved towards her "I'm sorry Lyon. You were so helpful finding my direwolf seal, and that trick you did was very impressive"

Lyon cocked his head to one side considering her, before glancing back at Tyrion.

"I know you worked very hard on that trick" Tyrion told him, stroking his back "but Sansa was worried about the North. Queen's don't have easy lives like you"

Lyon barked, in what Sansa could only assume was disagreement.

"I need you to make nice with Sansa" he said "she's been run off her feet looking after me and bringing you bowls of water. I hate to tell you – but it's not me that remembers to refill it"

The direwolf considered her again and Sansa reached out to stroke behind his ears as Tyrion had once told her he liked best. He made no protest, but his green eyes kept moving back to his master as if to say 'can I go now?'

Lyon endured another ear rub before licking Tyrion and leaping off his master, wandering towards the hearth.

"The wound is still fresh" said Tyrion, shaking his head "Give him time and he'll come around"

"Lyon tolerates me at best. You're the only one he loves"

"Hmm, it did take rather a lot of convincing to get him to lick you awake"

"I did wonder why he was drooling over me when I woke up" she said, raising her eyebrow at Tyrion

"Getting out of bed wasn't my first plan. I dispatched Lyon first, but his attempts were unsuccessful"

"So then you decided to get out of bed?"

Tyrion squirmed guiltily "Well he seemed to be taking certain liberties with you – I had to defend your honour!"

Sansa laughed, taking hold of his face.

"I love you" she said, kissing his head

Her husband opened his mouth to say something, before closing it quickly – shooting her a warm smile instead. Somehow having Tyrion beside her seemed to shrink her worries to a more manageable size, and she could breathe again. The weight of ruling had nearly crushed her, dragging her back behind her walls and away from her husband. Never again. They would handle things together and she would do her best to be more open with Tyrion.

* * *

Arya paid close attention to Tyrion and Sansa during the meeting with Wolkan. Whatever distance had hung between them the last few days seemed to have completely dissolved. Her sister had sent her a message earlier saying the meeting was being moved to a room upstairs, and she'd assumed that was because Tyrion was joining them. While he was improving each day, he had yet to tackle the stairs.

Sansa had asked Wolkan to review everything that had happened since the Wolfswood and Tyrion had sat silently listening throughout. When the old Maester had finished, Tyrion turned to Sansa sat to his left.

"I'm so sorry" he said, face falling "I should have been here for you"

"There's nothing you could have done. This is my fault"

"No wonder you've been stressed. I'm your husband I should have been helping you - not distracting you"

"You've not been well sweetheart" said Sansa, brushing a hand through his hair "none of this matters as much as you"

Tyrion reached out to take her hand "I promise - you won't have to deal with this alone"

"Thank you" said Sansa, blue eyes shining "it's your advice I value the most"

The Queen and the lord of Winterfell were totally absorbed in each other's gaze. It was almost a shame to break it.

"I suppose Maester Wolkan and I have been sat here twiddling our thumbs?" said Arya, arching an eyebrow at her sister

They broke their shared gaze, varying degrees of redness creeping into their faces. Sansa recovered first, clearing her throat.

"You're quite right; Maester Wolkan has offered invaluable help during this time"

"A pleasure your grace" said the old man, bowing his head

"I haven't?" said Arya

"You've offered something alright" said Sansa, smirking at her sister

Arya turned to Tyrion "I'm glad you're back big brother. I couldn't take much more of Sansa's moony eyed staring at your empty seat"

Much to her satisfaction Sansa turned crimson at her words, as Tyrion gazed up at his wife with bright eyes.

"You...really missed me?" he asked, fidgeting with his sleeve

"I did" said Sansa, smiling at him "I came to these meetings and all I wanted was to be with you"

Arya rolled her eyes "We'd have never guessed, would we Maester?"

"Ah...it was clear your mind was elsewhere, your Grace" he said diplomatically

Sansa's face was still glowing red, but Tyrion's face was beaming. It was worth invoking her sister's wrath to make sure Tyrion knew how wanted he was.

"To the matter at hand, I'm sure you've heard our scouts have found no sign of Robin or Gawan near the Dreadfort" said Wolkan

"Has there been any indication of other houses turning against me?" asked Sansa, her brow furrowing

"Not that I've seen your Grace" said Wolkan

"I haven't found anything in your correspondence either" said Arya, shooting a glare at Sansa "though there's still a few hundred letters to go through"

Sansa sighed "We need to pinpoint which houses are likely to turn against me, and the best way to do that is to find out which houses I've ignored"

"I know, but that's still no guarantee. Finding Robin and Gawan is the easiest way to end all this" said Arya

"There's been no word on their whereabouts either" said Wolkan "though Alec is continuing to co-ordinate the hunt"

"Sansa, are you sure you ignored house Mazin?"

Tyrion's question drew all their attention. The little Lannister had been sat in silence, reading through the letter house Mazin had received from Robin.

"I've not been a good Queen" she said "I've ignored a lot of people Tyrion, and forgotten the small folk"

"That doesn't seem like you though" he insisted "particularly towards a house that helped you reclaim Winterfell"

"I appreciate your support" she said, brushing her hand against his face "but I haven't acted like a Stark. House Mazin have refused the offer of rebellion out of loyalty to you – not to me"

"Yes, I had many letters from various lords requesting help and some of them did complain that you were ignoring their repeated letters. I found it odd at the time, but I knew you were very busy on trade deals with the six Kingdoms" he said, tapping his fingers on the table "Now I wonder..."

"Wonder what?" prompted Arya, leaning forwards in her seat

"Did anyone else ever help you with your correspondence Sansa?" asked Tyrion

Arya's face paled as Tyrion's implication set in. She turned her attention to Sansa, who appeared to have frozen in her chair.

The Queen's voice trembled as she answered "When I was working on the more important issues with lord Glover, lord Manderly and lady Tallhart, Robin offered to help me with my correspondence. He wouldn't answer the letters but he'd read them and summarise the issues to save me time"

"You keep a record of the correspondence you receive from each house, don't you your Grace?" asked Wolkan

"She keeps every letter" said Arya, tension winding through her "All the letters I've read I've yet to find any from house Mazin"

Tyrion touched Sansa's elbow as her gaze remained frozen to the desk in front of her "Sansa I think you've ignored house Mazin because you never received their letters in the first place"

"Because Robin was working against you from the beginning" growled Arya

"If that's true, who knows how much more correspondence you've been sent and not received. It's more than likely Robin will have destroyed the letters as soon as you received them" said Wolkan, rubbing his beard

Tyrion nodded "It would give the appearance of a neglectful Queen. An image Robin could use to..."

"...incite a rebellion" whispered Sansa

Arya's hands shook in her rage. She hated Robin and Gawan so much. They'd always intended to betray Sansa. If one of them had married her, it wasn't hard to imagine that Sansa would eventually be discarded.

"We won't let them get away with any of this Sansa" she vowed "They'll pay for everything they did to Tyrion and to you"

"How?" asked Sansa "The damage is done, my reputation is in tatters"

"Not necessarily" said Tyrion, smiling kindly at her "Many of the lords who got no response from you approached me instead. I have all of that correspondence somewhere so pinpointing which houses weren't successful in contacting you should be easy. With your permission, I could write to them and ask about how often they wrote to you and such. I've exchanged letters with some of them many times; I believe they'll respond to me"

"A good plan" agreed Wolkan "if we can convince these houses the Queen is not to blame but Robin and Gawan are, there is a good chance we can heal any rifts within the North before they fully develop"

Despite the raw anger eating at her, Arya felt nothing but pride in Tyrion. Broken and battered as he was, his quick mind had seized upon what they'd all been missing.

"Nice work lord of Winterfell" said Arya, shooting him a grin

He smiled shyly at her praise "I'm glad I could help"

"Thank you Tyrion" said Sansa, a single tear running down her face "I...thank you"

"I'll do whatever I can to help you" he promised, laying his good hand over hers "You're not alone"

"Absolutely" agreed Arya

Her sister merely nodded, a grateful smile crossing her face. This fresh betrayal had hurt her, but thanks to Tyrion they had a chance of ruining Robin and Gawan's game before it turned deadly. Whatever coldness had clung to Sansa the last few days seemed to have dissolved, but Arya wasn't going to risk her sister wallowing over this fresh betrayal.

"There's a positive to all this" said Arya, leaning back in her chair

"What's that?" asked Sansa, brow furrowing

"This revelation has saved me from reading any more of the boring shit people write to Sansa"

Tyrion's mouth quirked upwards "That's important royal business lady Arya"

"It's pointless – that's what it is. Why can't people figure out their own shit? I swear some of these lords can't find their own way to the privy"

"We mustn't judge Arya, I have an escort to the privy myself" said Tyrion

"Sansa's worried you'll fall in, that's why"

"Sansa? The Queen does not escort the imp to the privy, I meant Lyon!"

Arya snorted "That doesn't surprise me"

"You should hear him chatting to Lyon while he's in there" said Sansa, a faint smile crossing her face

Tyrion shrugged "If there's one thing my father taught me, it's the importance of a guard while shitting"


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Tyrion hadn't realised how much he'd missed work until he was actually doing it again. Glancing down at the letter he was writing, he thought this was exactly the distraction he needed. While his body continued to heal, Tyrion found he was able to stay awake for longer each day. With not much else to occupy his time, it was easy for his mind to wander back to the Wolfswood - however much he didn't want to. Aside from keeping the dark thoughts at bay, it felt good to do something to help Sansa for a change.

His face grew hot recalling his utter dependence these past weeks. Everyone had been so kind to him. Not once had anyone blamed him for what happened, instead insisting it wasn't his fault. He wanted to repay their kindness - to contribute to the family that had taken him in when he had nothing left.

He only wished Sansa wasn't facing such problems. She was an excellent Queen. While it was true she had ignored the small folk who asked for her help and treated the Winterfell household rather frostily, she was very new to ruling. What she'd achieved in the North so far was a testament to her hard work - something Robin had been undermining from the start.

Sansa was young and unlike most rulers she hadn't spent her whole life preparing for such a huge responsibility; mistakes were to be expected. More importantly, she was doing everything alone. After his experience as hand to Daenerys he'd been very reluctant about advising anyone ever again. He'd thought himself clever and wise, but it was sheer arrogance.

_'We heard enough words from you'_

Grey Worm's angry words in the dragon pit reverberated through his mind. It was true, he thought. Everyone had listened to him and no-one was the better for it. When Sansa had initially asked for his help in the North he'd been terrified. How could anyone possibly trust him after all he'd done? Then she'd married him and made him the lord of her ancestral home. He didn't want to fail Sansa as he'd failed Daenerys. Whatever it took, Tyrion swore he would do better this time. Whatever Sansa wanted from him was hers.

"Are you alright Tyrion?"

Sansa's voice pulled him from his mind to find her gazing across at him, concern shining in her blue eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine" he said, smiling "Just thinking"

"Aren't you always?" she said, sitting back in her chair "Do you want to take a break?"

He shook his head "I should finish these letters"

She narrowed her eyes at him "Alright, it's lunch soon anyway. After that you're taking a break"

"If you insist"

"I do insist. You can choose what we do though. We can read, go for a walk or anything else you can think of – but no work"

"I appreciate that Sansa, but if you'd rather continue with your duties I'd more than understand"

Sansa raised an eyebrow "I was rather hoping your offer to teach me cyvasse was still open?"

"Of course" said Tyrion, corners of his mouth twitching up "You'll pick it up quickly – you have the strategic mind for it"

"It's a date then" said Sansa with a smile that sent a tingle through him "How are the letters going?"

"It will take some time to go through my correspondence and pinpoint the houses likely to be targeted by Robin, but for now I've written to a couple I'm fairly certain of including lord Marlin of house Dormund and lady Barbrey of house Dustin"

"It's a good thing Arya volunteered to check through all of your correspondence" said Sansa, a smirk creeping over her face

"I could have done it"

"Nonsense, you're still recovering and it would have consumed all of your time my love. Arya is more than up to the task"

"Sansa Stark, are you abusing your Queenly powers?"

"What's the point of being Queen if I can't order my little sister about?" said Sansa, mischief sparking in her eyes "There has to be some kind of benefit"

"True" said Tyrion "the look on her face when you gave the order was rather amusing, though you know she'll be out for revenge"

"It was worth the risk" said Sansa, shifting her papers into a pile "Are you nearly ready for lunch? I'm rather eager to see what cyvasse is all about"

"One moment" he promised "I just need to seal these letters"

Tyrion stood stiffly from the chair, his good hand gripping the table for support. While Sansa still supported him when he walked, she had reluctantly conceded that very short journeys around their room could be attempted alone as long as someone was watching. Many men would probably find Sansa's constant fussing and hovering annoying, but to Tyrion it was the exact opposite. The continued reminder of her care warmed his heart.

The journey to his chest of draws was only short, but his legs trembled beneath him all the same. At least the new medicine for his hand was easing some of that agony. He hadn't realised quite how bad it had gotten until the pain lessened. He could feel Sansa's eyes following his progress even as she pretended to read a letter. Easing open the heavy wooden draw where he stored his work supplies, Tyrion pushed around some of the papers in search of his seal.

After a few moments of hopeless searching, he turned to Sansa "Have you seen my seal anywhere?"

"Which seal?" she asked, eyes never leaving the paper in her hand

"The one with a W on it"

"Oh that one. Yes I saw it"

Tyrion blinked, why was she acting so strangely?

"Where did you see it?" he asked

"Last I saw, it was burning on the hearth"

"How did it get there?" he asked, eyebrows drawing together

Sansa looked up from the letter in her hand, to meet his gaze "I put it there"

"Can I ask why?"

The Queen rose from her chair, smiling sadly at him "Come sit down"

He lurched back towards the table, his stomach rolling as Sansa moved away. Why would she burn his seal? Climbing into the chair, his eyes followed Sansa as she moved to her own chest of draws and pulled out a package. She dragged her chair around to sit next to him, placing the brown package between them.

"I got rid of your seal" she said, blue eyes studying him "because I will not have you using a W as your mark"

"Ah, I'm sorry Sansa" he said, swallowing thickly "I didn't mean to offend you. I just assumed you wouldn't mind me using the W to make it clear the letter was from Winterfell. I can use something plainer if you like"

"Plainer? You think I'm going to let you send letters with just a blob of wax on them?"

Sansa's slender hands tugged open the brown package pulling out two seals and several pots of wax. One seal was marked with a Lannister lion; the other with the Stark direwolf. The waxes were red, gold, black and grey.

"I don't understand" said Tyrion, eyeing the contents of the package

Sansa took hold of his right hand pulling it towards her "When you were taken from me, I searched our chambers for something that reminded me of you. Do you know what I found?"

Tyrion shook his head, as Sansa's blue eyes turned misty.

"I found nothing. You had nothing aside from some clothes. There was no sign at all that this was your home or that you even lived here. In desperation I looked for your seal, assuming it would have your family sigil on - instead I found that plain W"

"I didn't really think the Lannister sigil was appropriate"

"Why not?" asked Sansa "You are a Lannister"

He squirmed under her scrutiny "Sansa, you of all people know how awful my family were. The Lannister name will die with me and it's for the best"

Sansa let out a sigh, gently squeezing his hand "There is no shame at all in being a Lannister. You've more than earned the respect of the North, and I happen to be very proud that my husband is a lion. You are not your family Tyrion"

"I haven't wore Lannister colours or used a lion sigil since I killed my father" he said, turning his eyes to the bed "That lovely blanket you made is the first thing with a lion on I've had for years"

Sansa followed his gaze, her eyes softening as she turned back to him "The lion sigil is your birth right Tyrion, but you're part of the Stark family too. The direwolf is also yours to use"

"You really don't want me to use a plain seal, do you?" he said, sinking into the chair

"Absolutely not" she said, voice hardening "The lion and the wolf are both yours to use, or if you like we can have another made that combines the two - but I will not have you using a W for your seal as if you belong to no-one"

"I understand" he said, eyeing the seals as if they were going to bite him

Sansa rose from her chair, lightly kissing his cheek "You have a family that loves you Tyrion - you're not a homeless beggar. Now, finish your letters and I'll send for lunch"

The Queen wandered away from him to arrange for lunch and Tyrion sat staring at the seals in front of him. Truthfully he didn't think he had a right to use either. Using the direwolf would be an insult to the Starks no matter what Sansa said. While he was fairly certain Sansa and Arya cared for him, he didn't doubt her dead parents would despise him as would Robb Stark.

_'You're no son of mine'_

_'I am your son. I have always been your son'_

Killing his father had surely forfeited his right to use the lion seal. His father had hated him - that was never in doubt. He'd once thought he could win some affection, or at least his approval but no matter what he did it was never enough. Tyrion had never been particularly proud of his family, but he had once been proud to be a Lannister. Some of his ancestors had been great heroes, and he'd cared for his aunt, uncles, some of his cousins - and Jamie of course.

Hesitantly he lifted the lion seal, placing it before him. Red was the colour generally used for a Lannister seal, but gold could be too – they were the colours of house Lannister.

Tyrion glanced towards the bed and his lion blanket. He would always be a Lannister - the last of his family now. Perhaps he could be better though. He grasped a pot of wax, setting it to heat ready to make his seal.

He'd just finished sealing his letters when Sansa appeared behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders.

"What do you think?" he asked, nervously eyeing the lion sigil in black wax

"A good choice"

"It was inspired by the blanket you made me. I didn't think you'd mind me using the black wax, even though it's more of a Northern colour…"

Warm lips pressed against the top of his head, silencing his worries.

"I think it's perfect" she said, leaning over him "A very Northern lion"

Tyrion brushed his fingers over the fresh seal "Red was never my colour"

"I do recall saying the Northern colours suited you" she said, laying her hand over his "the dark clothes go with your golden hair very nicely"

"I'll take your word for it my Queen"

"Good" she said "Now come my lord, we have lunch plans"

Tyrion smiled as Sansa moved to clear the work from the table. No doubt his father and sister were seething that he was still using their family sigil, but this time he would make it his own. He was the last of his family and while it did sadden him greatly, it was also freeing. The weight of his family's expectations had gone; he was free to reinvent himself. To Tyrion, a Northern lion sounded a good place to start.

* * *

_"Sansa, please…"_

_"Stop begging. You chose to stay - this is the price"_

_Tyrion was powerless to resist as Sansa pinned him beneath her. Why was she doing this? Everything had been going so well. Tyrion had been sound asleep when the rustling of the sheets disturbed him. He'd woken to find Sansa climbing on top of him, pushing him onto his back against the mattress._

_"You promised" he said, pleading with her to let him go_

_A cruel smile curved over her face "Did you really think I meant that? Look at the state of you - broken and shamed. You should be thanking me for even touching you"_

_Tyrion's heart shattered as she reached under his shift and grasped hold of him. Her hand tightened, crushing his cock painfully as he writhed under her._

_"Please stop…"_

_She pulled roughly at him, her nails digging into the sensitive skin "No. You want to pretend this is your home; that we're your family – you have to earn your keep Tyrion"_

_"Sansa...you're hurting me" he said, a sob building in his throat "please"_

_"Stop crying – it's pathetic" she said, face twisting in disgust "This is the one thing you're any use for and you can't even do that"_

_Tyrion struggled weakly in Sansa's grip, but he couldn't free himself from her. Once gentle hands became harsh and unforgiving as they manipulated him until he was ready. Sansa wasted no time sinking on top of him, riding him roughly as she buried her face next to his ear._

_"You're mine to use however I want" she whispered "never forget that"_

Tyrion's eyes flew open, jerking on the bed. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating Sansa lying across the bed from him.

A dream. A horrible dream.

He lay still on the bed, his heart pounding through his bed clothes. At least he hadn't woken Sansa. Talking about his nightmares was never easy, but there was no way he could tell her about this one. Tyrion swallowed thickly, forcing the images from his mind.

Sansa had apologised and he'd forgiven her. She'd shown him nothing but love and care since his return from the Wolfswood; there was no reason for him to be afraid of her.

'Yes, there is' taunted his mind 'No-one could ever love you'

There was no denying the tiny slither of doubt that gnawed at his mind. He'd forgiven Sansa and he meant that wholeheartedly. When Sansa swore she'd never force him in the bed again he believed her - the apology had been sincere.

It had been two days since he'd confronted Sansa over her icy behaviour, and since then the voice of doubt had grown stronger. Her sudden return to the Queen of ice had shaken him badly. The coldness and indifference she'd shown him had been so unexpected; who was to say her promise to not bed him again wouldn't change just as quickly?

Tyrion screwed his eyes shut, willing the dark thoughts to leave him alone. He trusted Sansa – he loved Sansa. She was so easily affectionate towards him, expressing her love without hesitation. More than once he'd wanted to return the sentiment directly, but the words would never come. It was irrational; it was stupid – but he feared the moment he gave into his feelings would be the moment Sansa turned on him. Who wants the love of a disfigured dwarf?

Then there was the constant worry that if he physically expressed any affection she might take it as a sign to bed him. Sansa was a beautiful woman...but he just couldn't. Not now; maybe not ever.

Tyrion curled into himself, scooting closer to the edge of the bed – and hating himself for every inch he put between him and Sansa. The dream had shaken him, reminding him horribly of his wedding night. It was ridiculous. Sansa had been nothing but kind to him. He'd forgiven her - though a lingering doubt remained. There was a wariness in the bed with her, he feared he may never lose. The bed creaked softly startling him, until a furry body pressed against him. Tyrion gratefully wrapped his good arm around Lyon, as the direwolf lay on the bed with him.

He couldn't give into those dark thoughts. Sansa loved him; she promised. No matter what he had to move forwards. He should move closer to his wife and seek her comfort - it would be progress.

But…maybe not tonight.

He'd try again tomorrow, but tonight the image of his dream kept him tethered to the edge of the bed.

* * *

Sansa's mind was split. Part of her focus was on her cyvasse match with Arya, the other half was worrying over her husband. It wasn't unusual to find Tyrion curled up on his side of the bed, but this morning she'd woken to find him sleeping on the very edge with Lyon in his arms. Worried he may fall she'd reached out to tug him away from the edge and he'd flinched so badly at her touch Lyon had woken with a howl.

Fear had flashed across his face for the briefest of moments, quickly replaced by a nervous smile. Sansa had apologised for startling him and asked him multiple times if he wanted to talk about anything, but her husband had remained somewhat distant all day. They'd done some work this morning and she'd taken him for a walk around the upstairs corridors, but his mind had obviously been elsewhere despite his efforts to act normally.

Whatever was bothering him Sansa had declared they would take the afternoon off, telling Tyrion she needed a break. She'd invited Arya to join them for some cyvasse in the hopes of breaking the melancholy that hung over her husband.

"Don't feel bad when Sansa loses Tyrion, it's no reflection on your teaching" said Arya, lounging back in her chair as Sansa made her next move

"I haven't lost yet"

"Are you sure?"

"Sansa's still very much in the game" said Tyrion, sat on the chaise watching them.

They'd pulled the two arm chairs closer around the hearth with her and Arya occupying one at opposite ends of the game board with Tyrion sat on the chaise between them.

"I'll win this for you, my love" said Sansa, shooting her husband a smile. Tyrion's mouth twitched upwards, but it didn't reach his eyes as he stared distantly at the game board.

"What makes you so sure Tyrion wants you to win? Maybe he's supporting me" said Arya

"I'm his wife" protested Sansa

"I'm his little sister" said Arya, turning to pout at him "You want me to win, don't you big brother?"

It amazed Sansa how her sister could share her focus between such a complex game and making jokes. Even now her sister's grey eyes sparked with mischief as she gazed at Tyrion. Indecision tore across Tyrion's face as they both awaited his answer.

"I'm neutral in this conflict" he said

"The middle ground doesn't exist Tyrion, pick a side"

"I'll have to choose Sansa. I taught her to play after all"

Sansa patted his leg "Good choice"

"Is that what you really want though?" asked Arya, effortlessly making her move and throwing Sansa's strategy into disarray

"My loyalty is to my Queen" said Tyrion, shrugging "and watching you lose would be amusing"

"We need a second opinion" declared Arya "Ask Lyon!"

"You want to ask a direwolf?" said Sansa, staring at her sister

"Tyrion and Lyon share a bond" she insisted "I say we test if he follows his master's lead"

"It is an interesting theory" said Tyrion, eyes turning thoughtful "Lyon!"

At the sound of his name the little wolf rolled to his feet, leaving the spot he'd been lazing in near the window. Sansa wasn't sure a wolf could look haughty, but the look Lyon shot her on his way past could be nothing else. The direwolf trotted to the far side of the table between Sansa and Arya, staring up at Tyrion.

"An important question" started Tyrion, addressing his wolf "Sansa and Arya are battling each other in an intense game of cyvasse, who do you want to win?"

The way Tyrion spoke to Lyon never failed to amuse Sansa, but the way the wolf understood him was somewhat unnerving. Green eyes darted back and forth between her and her sister before Lyon moved to sit next to Arya.

"Ah ha!" declared Arya, rubbing the wolf's head "Thanks Lyon. I think Tyrion wants me to win too"

"Lyon - we're supposed to be supporting Sansa!" said Tyrion, but the wolf merely tilted his head to one side

"Aww, I thought we were friends" said Sansa, reaching out to pet the golden wolf

The direwolf was having none of it, and quickly turned on his paws - sauntering off in search of his water bowl. Arya snorted in laughter as Sansa sighed.

"He doesn't like me" she said

"I wouldn't take it personally Sansa" said Tyrion "He's just playing hard to get"

"I'll win him over" she declared

"How are you going to do that? He loves Tyrion and napping" said Arya

"Not necessarily in that order" added Tyrion

Sansa smiled, turning to her husband "We can bond over that then. We both love Tyrion"

Tyrion's face flushed at her words, his face twisting into a sad smile "Yes, well…I still believe you can defeat Arya"

The focus turned back to the game and as they played Sansa noticed some of Tyrion's distance melting away. While she didn't know what had been bothering him, she did know there was still much he needed to deal with. It had been little over a month since his ordeal in the Wolfswood and she still knew very little of what he'd suffered. Her husband was doing his best to put on a brave face and brush off all that had happened, but every now and then he would withdraw. A haunted look would take over his soft green eyes and Sansa would do whatever she could to soothe him. Things between them were improving constantly; trust growing slowly but surely. It would take time but Sansa would do anything to take care of her husband.

* * *

"Would you rather be my hand, or the hand of Stannis Baratheon?"

His question startled the old knight, drawing Davos from his reading to stare at the King.

"I was honoured to serve Stannis. I always thought he was a just man - right up until he let the red woman sacrifice Shireen to the so called lord of light"

"On that basis, you'd rather serve me?"

"Aye. You're an excellent King, your Grace" said Davos, inclining his head

Bran stared at him with thousand year old eyes, a faint smile flitting over his face "You needn't flatter me Ser Davos - I do very little"

"As rulers go that may well be a good thing. Stannis often asked for advice and then ignored it. What I saw the dragon Queen was much the same; neither listened to their advisors when they maybe should have. Not saying I'm always right, but a second opinion counts for something. Jon was always open to advice"

"It's always good to gain perspective; see things from someone else's view. Things you might have missed" said Bran, rolling his head to one side "Are you happy to be going North again?"

"Never thought I would be up here again, your Grace" said Davos, tugging his cloak around him "Can't say I'm happy about the cold, but the trade deal with the North should help to get things moving again in Kings Landing"

"This visit to the North is more important for them than to us"

"Aye, the deal will help them as much as us - I made sure of that"

Bran smiled, nodding his thanks to his hand as the litter bounced along the road. This was a crucial time for the North - that much he could see. The power of the three-eyed raven was stronger in the North, though the old Gods power had recently limited his own with regards to Sansa's kingdom. Whatever was going to happen it was in the old Gods hands and Bran could only do so much. The North would rise or fall under Sansa. Every decision she'd already made and would make had the potential to influence that. The future was fragile; any seemingly insignificant thing had the power to alter the fate of the North drastically. All Bran could do was see through the raven's eyes.

* * *

Sansa sighed contentedly as Tyrion lay fast asleep with his head on her shoulder. Since Wolkan had cleared him to leave the bed and walk with help, his strength had continued to grow each day. Every morning they walked a little further around the upstairs corridors, and throughout the day they would work together in their chambers, sometimes with Arya joining them. Sansa made certain he didn't overdo it and they would take regular breaks from work to do something else. She found these breaks helped her as much as Tyrion. Rather than getting too bogged down in her problems the respites from work eased her worries and cleared her head to tackle them from a fresh perspective.

Tyrion was the biggest help though. Whenever she ran into a problem that troubled her, he would always suggest a solution or different way of looking at it. As much as she loved working with her husband, Sansa found herself craving the time they spent together that wasn't work. Little by little Tyrion was opening up around her. She could see it in his more frequent smiles and light-hearted teasing. Gone was the biting wit and over confidence he'd once used so devastatingly, instead replaced by a certain shyness and hesitation. Sansa had wondered more than once if this was who he'd always been and the Tyrion she knew in Kings Landing was a mask to protect himself. She could understand that - she'd worn a mask for a long time too. Either way, Sansa found herself loving him more deeply than ever. He was her best friend; and this second chance with him meant the world to her.

Sansa carefully set her needlework down, turning to admire her sleeping husband. Messy golden hair covered his forehead, while his mouth hung open slightly. The scar on his face was healing but they'd discovered growing a beard irritated the fragile skin and her husband was forced to go bare faced for the immediate future. All things considered he was getting better, but he still needed to rest.

She'd asked him earlier if he wanted to sleep as she'd noticed him trying to hide a yawn, but he'd insisted he wasn't tired and had sat next to her on the chaise, reading while she did some needlework. She'd been so engrossed in her needlework she hadn't realised Tyrion was asleep until his body slumped towards her, his head landing awkwardly against her shoulder. Settling him more comfortably against her Sansa had watched the hearth crackling for a while as she worked, enjoying the closeness between them.

Lyon was also dozing much like his master, though he was thankfully drooling on his cushion in the corner rather than on her. That was another good sign that Tyrion was improving. The wolf had the uncanny ability to sense when Tyrion was distressed even if Sansa herself couldn't see it. The past few weeks she'd noticed the little creature would join Tyrion whenever he sensed a change in his master's mood, though much to her relief his visits to the bed had grown fewer. As much as she loved Lyon, he would likely grow bigger at some point and the idea of an adult direwolf lying between her and Tyrion every night was not her favourite image. Particularly a wolf that was rather possessive of his master, and seemed to hold a grudge against her.

Wrapping her arm around Tyrion she gently shook him "Wake up"

As much as she wanted to stay on the chaise with Tyrion, tomorrow was a big day and he needed proper sleep. Fortunately they'd both already dressed for bed and only needed to get over there. Her husband stirred slightly, though his eyes remained closed.

"Tyrion, wake up" she said gently

Weary green eyes blinked up at her lazily.

"Ready for bed now?" she asked

His brow furrowed in sleepy confusion, before his eyes widened realising where he was.

"Sansa, I'm sorry" he said, jerking backwards from her "I never meant to fall asleep…like that"

She laughed lightly at his panicked expression, tugging him against her "You're ok, it was very sweet"

His face grew red "You should have pushed me off"

"Why would I do that? I rather like having my husband near me"

Some of his embarrassment faded and Sansa couldn't help but wonder if he would ever get past his fear of rejection, for she was certain that's what it was. No matter what, he seemed to have this lingering fear she would suddenly object to his presence or find him disgusting - which couldn't be further from the truth.

"Shall we go to bed?" she asked "As comfortable as I was with you sleeping on me, it would have left you quite stiff in the morning"

"Yes" he said, a sheepish smile covering his face "I suppose the bed will be best"

Tyrion moved to stand from the chaise and her sharp eyes followed his movements as he limped towards the bed. Tomorrow was his name day and she had many plans to celebrate it - not that Tyrion knew. All week she'd wondered if he was going to mention his name day, and as expected he'd said nothing.

Her stomach fluttered at the thought of tomorrow. She didn't know why Tyrion hadn't mentioned his name day. It was possible he didn't realise the date - though she thought that unlikely. It was more likely he assumed no-one would be interested, but Sansa and Arya were going to prove him wrong on that count.

"Everything alright Sansa?"

Her husband was stood at the side of the bed now, glancing back at her with concern that she hadn't followed him.

"Yes" she said, standing from the chaise and moving towards him

Sansa wrapped her arm around Tyrion for support as he climbed into bed. With his arm still immobilised the high bed was something of a challenge and he'd adamantly refused a step stool – though the reason eluded her.

"I'm sorry for sleeping on you…and the drool" he said when he was settled

"Nothing to apologise for my love" she said, kissing his head, before moving to her own side of the bed "You can drool on me anytime"

"You'll regret that" he said, smiling as he lay down

"Never"

* * *

Standing in her sister's chambers, Arya gazed at the figure on the bed.

"It's almost a shame to wake him" said Sansa, a soft smile covering her face

She watched her sister out of the corner of her eye. The Queen was looking upon her husband adoringly, and Arya barely contained an eye roll. Unlike in her younger years, Sansa's love and trust was hard won but the man on the bed had both - however much he struggled to believe it.

"We could leave him a little longer" suggested Sansa

Arya tapped her foot impatiently "No way, he can't sleep through his name day - there's too much to fit in and I want to give him his gifts"

"But he looks so sweet"

She followed her sister's moony eyed gaze to Tyrion. The little Lannister was lying on his back with his golden hair sticking up everywhere, his lion blanket hanging over him. His face was more relaxed than Arya had ever seen him, and for a moment she considered letting him sleep on.

Then she got a hold of herself, nudging her sister "Are you going to wake him, or should I?"

Sansa sighed "Alright. We'll wake him up, he needs to eat anyway"

"We could do it together" said Arya, a smirk spreading over her face "that would certainly surprise him"

Sansa's mouth twitched upwards "Fine"

Together they approached the bed until they were both leaning over Tyrion. He hadn't stirred at their approach, and the sisters nodded at each other

"Wake up!" they shouted in sync

The effect was immediate, with Tyrion's eyes darting open as he jolted on the bed.

"What-?"

"Happy name day Tyrion" said Sansa, sweeping down to kiss the top of his head

His face was etched in sleepy confusion as he stared up at them "It's what?"

"Happy name day big brother" said Arya, flicking him on the head "You didn't forget, did you?"

"It's my name day?" he said, brow furrowing

Arya turned to Sansa "Is he always this slow in the mornings?"

"It takes him a few minutes to wake up properly"

"I'm not that patient" said Arya

Sansa smiled at her husband "Ready to get dressed? Nessa's already taken Lyon out to hunt and breakfast will be here soon"

"Breakfast?" he asked, still staring at them in wonderment

Arya nodded her head slowly "Yes, breakfast. That meal we eat in the mornings. Hurry up Tyrion; I want to give you my gifts!"

"Gifts?"

"Seven hells" said Arya, turning to her sister "You deal with him"

The Queen looked bemused as Tyrion pushed himself upwards in bed "Let's get ready sweetheart, I want to give you my gifts too"

The lord of Winterfell seemed completely stunned, sitting up in the bed and staring at them as if seeing them for the first time. What was confusing him, Arya didn't know - but patience wasn't her strong suit. Dropping on to the edge of the bed, she grasped his shoulders locking eyes with him.

"Your name is Tyrion Lannister" she explained slowly "You're the lord of Winterfell and the Queen's husband. Today is your name day and we're celebrating"

"You're celebrating…my name day?" he asked, tilting his head to one side

"Of course we are" said Sansa, joining them on the bed "Why wouldn't we?"

"I..um" he started, face growing red "Really?"

Arya's heart ached at the doubt in his eyes. What kind of childhood had Tyrion suffered, that he'd be surprised his family wanted to celebrate his name day? Sansa had picked up on it too, taking hold of his hand.

"Yes, really" said Sansa, gazing at him tenderly "We love you"

A slow smile spread across Tyrion's face as his green eyes shone. Arya's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight. In their family love had always been given and received so easily, there was something deeply unsettling about how little of family love Tyrion understood. His wide eyed wonderment at any display of kindness or care filled her with a deep sadness that she knew Sansa felt as well. Arya suspected the discomfort came from imagining the kind of life that would cause such behaviour.

Sansa and Tyrion were once again lost in each other's eyes and Arya decided it was time to get things moving again.

"If you ever get your arse out of bed, we'll celebrate" said Arya, jabbing him in the ribs as she moved from the bed

"Arya!" he complained, turning to pout at her

"I'm going to see where breakfast is" said Arya, grinning at him "Whatever state of dress you're in when I return is how you'll be eating it"

Tyrion turned to Sansa "Is that a serious threat?"

"I wouldn't take any chances" said the Queen, brushing her hand through his messy hair

"Suppose I should get up then"

"Unless you want to eat in your bed clothes my love"

"I'd hurry Lannister!" called Arya, pausing at the doorway "The countdown begins"

* * *

Despite the heavy breakfast he'd just eaten, Tyrion could hardly stop himself from bouncing in his seat as Arya placed two large packages on the table before him.

"These are for you" she said, sliding into her seat next to him

He still couldn't believe it. Today was his name day - and they were celebrating. He'd celebrated his name day before of course, but it was never like this. His family had always treated the occasion as nothing more than an inconvenience, to be endured only because it was expected of them - totally devoid of any actual love or care. Tyrion had grown to dislike the day. Compared to his sibling's name day, his was always a disappointment fueled by his family's hatred. As he grew older he'd spent the day in brothels and the past few years he'd ignored the day completely. Only Jamie had ever really celebrated with him - or cared for him.

Until now. Sansa and Arya both seemed as excited as he was, sat at the table in their chambers. The fact that they cared enough to even acknowledge the day meant a lot to him, but they were determined to celebrate it as well. Breakfast had been huge, piled high with all his favourites. Tyrion had been more than content with that, but both Sansa and Arya had laughed when he asked what work needed completing first. There was no work today, they'd told him - only celebrating.

"Do you think he knows the gift is actually inside the brown paper?" asked Arya, glancing questioningly at Sansa

The Queen smiled at him "Are you going to open it?"

"Of course" he said, a hint of red creeping up his neck "I was merely admiring Arya's wrapping skills"

"Not as pretty as Sansa's will be, I'm sure" said Arya

"You lack the patience for pretty things, not the skill" said Sansa

Arya rolled her eyes "Come on Tyrion, open it! It's not going to bite you"

Tyrion needed no more prompting as he tore into the gift. Fortunately it wasn't wrapped tightly and he managed to open it with his good hand. The brown paper fell away to reveal an intricately carved wooden box decorated with lions. Tyrion brushed his hand over the smooth wood, tracing the patterns. He pushed open the lid to reveal a black lined interior with a direwolf engraved on the inside of the lid.

"It's beautiful" he said, turning to Arya "Thank you"

Arya grinned at him "I'm glad you like it. Open the other one!"

Sansa helped him move the box to one side to get at the second package. It took some tugging to get the paper free, but Tyrion drew in a breath when the gift was revealed. A thick book sat before him called 'Lann the Clever and the Rise of the Lions'.

"There were only five copies of this book ever made, none have been seen for decades" he breathed "Where did you possibly get this?"

"I have my ways" said Arya, a hint of pride creeping into her voice "Do you like it?"

"Of course I do! Thank you so much Arya"

"You're more than welcome big brother"

A wide grin spread over his face as Arya pulled him into a hug which he eagerly returned. His eyes grew warm as she hugged him. All of this was more than he'd ever dared to hope for.

"I'll leave you two alone for a while" said Arya pulling back "I know Sansa's impatient to give you her gifts"

The Queen's mouth twitched upwards "I've very patient - but do hurry up"

Sansa rose from the table as Arya headed to the door. Tyrion's heart swelled as he traced his fingers over the gifts he'd received. It was obvious a lot of thought had gone into them and he couldn't be more appreciative. He was drawn from his musings as Sansa placed two packages in front of him, lightly kissing his head as she perched on the seat Arya had just vacated.

"Happy name day" she said, blue eyes sparkling "I hope you like them"

The first package he tore open to reveal a heavy black cloak embroidered with golden lions. Upon closer inspection Tyrion found the pattern contained direwolves too - small grey wolves interspersed among the lions.

"You belong to both families" said Sansa, watching him fondly "I didn't think you'd mind the wolves joining the lions"

"I love it" he said, throat tightening "Thank you Sansa. You made this yourself, didn't you? It must have taken a lot of work"

She smiled "How could you tell I made it?"

"Your needlework is always incredible" he said "I'd recognise it anywhere"

Sansa's face flushed at the praise, lightly pushing the second gift towards him "You're more than worth the effort. Open this one"

Once again Tyrion found himself overwhelmed by joy. The gifts were amazing, but the idea Sansa and Arya cared enough to go to such trouble was what truly touched him. Sansa was watching expectantly and Tyrion opened the smaller package to reveal a wooden toy horse.

His mouth twitched upwards at the gift, turning to Sansa with gratitude all the same "Thank you"

Sansa swatted at him playfully "I didn't think you'd be able to make it to the stables yet, but when you do there's a new grey horse waiting for you"

"What?" he said, eyes widening

The Queen laughed "You actually thought I'd got you a toy horse?"

"I wouldn't have minded" he said, fiddling with the toy "You really got me a horse?"

"Yes" she said "I remember you saying in Kings Landing that you ride best with a horse that knows you well and using some kind of adapted saddle. You'll have to give the instructions for your saddle to be made, but the horse is young and can be trained to your liking"

"Thank you Sansa" he said, warmth prickling at the corners of his eyes

"I thought when you were better, maybe we could go riding? There are some beautiful places not too far from Winterfell – I'd love to show you"

"I look forward to it"

Sansa smiled at him, rising from her seat "I do have one more gift for you"

"You've already given me so much Sansa" he said "You needn't have gone to such trouble"

"It's no trouble and I enjoy treating you"

The Queen made her way to her draws and Tyrion turned his attention to the wooden horse in his hands. Jamie had once gifted him a horse for his name day. Soft footsteps drew his attention as Sansa returned to her place beside him - a slender package in her hands.

"I want you to know we were all in complete agreement over this gift" she said laying it on the table before him

Tyrion turned to her questioningly, but Sansa said nothing – nodding towards the package. Like the other gifts this was loosely wrapped to accommodate his injuries and the brown paper quickly fell away. His hand stilled at the first glimpse of what lay within the package. A blade with a smoky black tinge gleamed wickedly up at him.

"What is this?" he asked, confusion spreading through him

The Queen maintained her silence, though her blue eyes were shining at him as he looked between her and the half opened gift. A lump formed in his throat as he tugged away the rest of the packaging.

Before him sat a valyrian steel short sword. The blade was unmistakeable with its smoky black colour, but Tyrion's eyes were drawn to the grip. Black leather threaded with gold covered the grip, leading down to an intricate pommel. On one side the pommel appeared to be a lion head, but as he gingerly lifted the blade he found the back of the lion's head merged into a direwolf head on the other side.

"This is..." he started

"Yours" said Sansa "A sword fit for the lord of Winterfell"

"How did you…I never told you about practicing with the guards, did I?" he said quietly, laying the weapon back on the table

"Arya told me when you were gone"

"I'm sorry Sansa. I never meant to keep it a secret but I was rather embarrassed and I didn't think it was important"

Sansa's face softened as she took his hand "There's nothing to apologise for. I paid you hardly any attention when you came to Winterfell. I had no idea what you did most of the day, who you spoke to or if you even ate - but that was my fault, not yours"

"You don't mind that I trained with the guards? I never wanted to embarrass you, but Arya insisted I spend some time doing something that wasn't work and the men sort of pulled me into"

"You've never embarrassed me" said Sansa, squeezing his hand "I had no idea you were interested in sword fighting. Do you enjoy it?"

"I did enjoy it" he said, lowering his eyes

"Then I'll hear no excuses for why you can't carry on doing something you care about. Now you have your own sword to use"

He moved his attention back to the weapon, its smoky black blade gleaming sharply at him. It was so tempting to accept it; the sword was beautiful.

'I'd pledge you my sword but I don't actually own a sword'

The words he'd spoken to Daenerys so long ago echoed through his mind. It was true - he'd never actually owned a sword. He'd had daggers and the axe from the battle of blackwater, but a sword was a weapon for a knight; not an imp.

Tyrion shook his head "I can't accept this Sansa, its valyrian steel..."

"You can and you will" said Sansa, adding softly "This was forged from your brother's sword"

His heart twisted at the mention of his brother; part of him had wondered where Sansa had found valyrian steel. He definitely couldn't accept it - especially knowing where Jamie's sword had originally come from.

"Sansa, you know Jamie's sword was made from half of your father's sword? What my father did to that weapon was a terrible crime – it belongs to your family"

"You're my family" she said firmly "I know where the steel comes from. Jamie's sword was badly damaged and the end was missing, but there was enough good steel left to forge a new weapon. Bran gave it to me to decide what to do with – Arya and I are in complete agreement. Ser Brienne holds the other half of ice, and you will have this"

"Sansa I..."

"No excuses. This sword is yours now"

Tyrion's eyes wandered over the magnificent weapon sat before him. Sansa really wanted him to have it? This was what remained of the Stark family heirloom. Weapons like this were usually passed from father to son. If the Lannister ancestral sword had still been in their family, Tyrion was certain it would have never been passed to him even if he was the only son.

Sansa brought his hand to rest over the grip of the sword before letting go "Jamie would want you to have it, and I think my father would too. You've more than proven yourself a worthy lord of Winterfell"

Hesitantly, Tyrion nodded "If you're sure…"

"Absolutely" she said "It's yours, my love"

Tyrion looked up at the Queen. She was smiling tenderly at him, her eyes encouraging him to accept it. There was no doubt at all in her expression, and despite his own doubts Tyrion found his shaky hand closing around the leather grip.

"Thank you Sansa" he said, lifting the blade from the table "I won't let you down - I swear it"

"You've never let me down" she said, leaning around him to kiss the side of his face "Do you like the pommel?"

"It's beautiful" he said warmth surging through him as he turned the weapon in his hand

"This sword has been used by wolves and lions – it seemed right to include both"

True to valyrian steel the weapon was lightweight and deadly, its sharp edge gleaming up at him.

"Maybe I could watch you practice some time" she said "I imagine you look quite dashing with a sword"

Tyrion snorted "You have a generous imagination"

"Based on fact. You were rather handsome in your armour before the battle of blackwater"

"Ah yes. You prayed for my safe return as you did the Kings"

Sansa laughed "That might have been a bit harsh. I certainly wanted you back more than Joffrey – you were the only one who wasn't horrible to me"

"Such high praise"

"I rather enjoyed you telling him off. When things got really bad in Kings Landing I'd think back to those moments"

"You should have seen me slap him – it was quite therapeutic"

Sansa's eyes widened "You slapped the King?"

"Oh yes, this hand made contact with the royal face several times" he said, nodding towards his hand

Sansa laughed and lightness filled Tyrion as the sound reached his ears. He liked making Sansa laugh – she'd always looked so sad in Kings Landing. Their marriage then had been a sham, but part of him had still wanted to make her happy somehow. He wanted to be a good husband.

Tyrion's eyes moved down to the sword he held. It was far more than he deserved – that was for certain. Yet Sansa was insistent that it was his, and despite his own doubts Tyrion wanted to be worthy of it. He'd work as hard as he could to at least be half decent at using it. No matter what he wouldn't shame the Starks again. Determination flooded him as he tightened his grip on the weapon. Sansa trusted him – he wouldn't let her down.

* * *

"When do you think Lyon will be back?" asked Tyrion

Arya rolled her eyes at her brother "He probably got distracted by a rabbit or something"

Following lunch, Arya had re-joined Sansa and Tyrion in their chambers where she was now attempting to teach them a coin game learnt across the narrow sea. While Tyrion had heard of it, he'd never bothered to learn it as it was a test of skill rather than mind.

"I'm sure he'll be back soon" said Sansa, smiling reassuringly at her husband

When Arya had come to their room, the lord of Winterfell could hardly stop grinning as he showed her the newly forged sword. No doubt Tyrion was just as eager to show his little friend. The blade was beautiful and Sansa's design for the pommel and grip was incredibly detailed. Deciding what to do with the broken sword hadn't been difficult. It could have made a couple of daggers or another bladed weapon but there wasn't enough steel for another long sword like Oathkeeper. Sansa had no interest in having any part of the weapon and neither did Bran. Her sister had offered the sword to her, but Arya could tell she had her own ideas for it.

Arya hadn't wanted the blade. She had needle and her own valyrian steel dagger, so she'd told Sansa to do with it as she wanted. It was only right – with Bran not wanting it, Sansa was technically the next in line for the ancestral sword. As soon as Arya had rejected the offer of the weapon, her sister had tentatively asked what she thought of giving it to Tyrion. While he'd apparently never mentioned his sword practice to Sansa, Arya had told her sister about it when trying to make a point and the Queen was keen to surprise Tyrion with a sword.

"If you don't want Tyrion to have the rest of father's blade I'd understand" Sansa had said "I can get a sword made for him"

Arya had shook her head "Ice belongs to the lord of Winterfell, and Tyrion is family"

Sansa had lit up at her acceptance of the idea "Thank you. Will you help? I don't know much about swords and he's never mentioned it to me. I've had some ideas for the design, but you'll know more about blades"

It was the right choice. Tyrion had more than earned the sword and Arya hoped it would encourage him to keep up with his sword practice despite his injuries.

A clinking noise drew her attention to where Tyrion had flicked his coin off the wall, landing close to the marker coin.

"Good shot" said Sansa, tossing her own coin which bounced off several inches away

"You're getting better" offered Tyrion as the Queen sighed

"At least it didn't fly out the window this time"

"You should have got extra points for hitting that bird"

They'd turned the chaise to face a clear wall near the bed where Arya had set up a single coin as a marker. Each of them had three coins to try and bounce off the wall and land as close to the marker coin as possible. So far both Tyrion and Sansa were proving quite terrible at the game, though Tyrion was improving somewhat quicker than his wife.

"Sit back and let me show you how it's done" said Arya, leaning forward on the chaise

With practiced ease she flicked her coin off the wall, landing directly on top of the marker coin.

"Show off" complained Sansa, sinking into the chaise

Arya leaned across Tyrion, grin spreading over her face "Don't be jealous big sister"

"I'm not jealous" she insisted "I will defeat you"

"I can imagine you and Tyrion practicing this when I'm not around" said Arya

Tyrion's mouth turned upwards "The servants will wonder what that strange clinking is, coming from the Queen's chambers"

A knock on the door drew their attention and Arya bounced from her seat to answer it. Pulling open the heavy door she saw Nessa and Lyon stood waiting. The little wolf had something in his mouth as he shot past Arya and into the room.

"Hello Nessa" said Arya "Lyon was hunting for a while"

"He wandered off for ages but when he came back he had something in his mouth" said the little girl holding something of her own "Is Tyrion here?"

Arya pulled the door open further "He's over on the chaise"

The girl bobbed her head, eyes darting around the room until she spied Tyrion sat with Sansa on the chaise. Nessa sucked in a huge breath, as if steeling her nerves before heading towards Tyrion. Arya fought back a laugh. She tried to hide it but Nessa was obviously nervous of the Queen, though she would willingly brave her for Tyrion.

"Ah, my long lost wolf and squire" said Tyrion, smiling at the girl as she approached

Arya followed her over, leaning against the back of the chaise as Nessa nervously shoved her package towards Tyrion.

"Happy name day!" she said, wringing her hands in front of her

Sansa was trying to smile at the girl but it only appeared to be making her more nervous.

"Thank you" said Tyrion his face softening as he opened the package "How did you know it was my name day?"

"Lady Arya told me"

The package opened to reveal what appeared to be a lion doll. It was clearly hand made with oddly shaped limbs and an overly large head, but it was coloured like a lion with a fluffy orange mane and two black eyes.

"Me and Ethan made it for you" said Nessa, shifting awkwardly as he stared at the gift "Mother helped with the stitching"

Arya leaned over the back of the chaise to see Tyrion's reaction. The lord of Winterfell seemed to be frozen, looking at the doll as if he'd never seen anything like it. Slowly a wide grin split his face, as he reached forwards to grasp Nessa's arm.

"It's lovely" he said, voice breaking "Thank you so much"

Nessa let out a breath, her face lighting up "You really like it?"

"I do. Please given Ethan and your Mother my sincere thanks" he said, tugging Nessa towards him

The little girl eagerly threw her arms around Tyrion as he hugged her with his good hand.

As she pulled back, Tyrion lifted the toy towards Sansa "Isn't he fierce?"

"Very" she agreed, nodding at Nessa "What a lovely gift"

"You worked really hard on that" said Arya, admiring the gift that had been made with love

"It was fun" said Nessa "Ethan helped with the hair. He likes lions"

"Thank you" said Tyrion, carefully tracing his fingers over the toy

Nessa didn't realise it, but Arya knew how much that meant to Tyrion. Since coming North he'd buried much of his identity as if it was a shameful secret. She understood why – Lannister's had never been liked in the North. Tyrion had changed that though. There was no shame in being a lion and little by little she hoped Tyrion was learning that.

Not to be out done Lyon sauntered across to Tyrion, jumping up to lie his front paws on his lap as he dropped whatever was in his mouth.

"What've you got Lyon?" he asked

"I don't know what he found" said Nessa, shrugging "but he was gone for ages"

Tyrion placed his lion toy to one side, picking up the drool covered stone that lay in his lap. Lyon barked happily, his tail wagging. Both Arya and Sansa leaned closer to Tyrion as he lifted the object up to inspect it.

In his hand sat a rounded stone glinting black throughout it. The effect was so bizarre it took Arya a few moments to recognise where she'd seen that kind of black before.

"Is that dragon glass?" asked Sansa, brow furrowing at the stone

"It appears to have somehow melted into the stone" said Tyrion

Arya's mind was ahead of them "Dragon fire. The only thing that could have done that"

"It's pretty" said Nessa "I told Lyon it was your name day and when he came back he had that"

The little girl cheerfully petted the wolf as if it was perfectly normal behaviour. The bond between Lyon and Tyrion was undeniable – just as strong as hers had once been with Nymeria. It was strange though. The Starks were of the North and bonds with direwolves had been rumoured for centuries. Tyrion had no Northern blood but shared a bond with Lyon as if he was a Stark. Not that it mattered to Arya. Tyrion was her brother and she was thrilled he had such a loyal little friend.

"You found it?" asked Tyrion, stroking the wolf's head

Lyon tilted his head to one side nudging at the stone.

"I've never seen anything like this" said Sansa, as Tyrion passed her the stone "Even during the clean-up of Winterfell"

"Aww, even Lyon wanted to celebrate your name day" said Arya

"Thank you Lyon" said Tyrion mouth turning upwards "aren't you a clever wolf?"

Lyon barked happily, bouncing off Tyrion in search of his water bowl.

"A wolf of few words" said Tyrion

"This stone is beautiful" said Sansa, handing it back to him "keep it somewhere safe"

"I have just the place" said Tyrion, moving stiffly from the chaise. As he rose he took hold of the lion toy Nessa had gifted him "and the perfect guardian for it"

He limped across the room towards the table where his presents sat, Nessa hovering at his side. To Arya's satisfaction he opened the box she'd gifted him, placing the stone inside before sitting the lion toy on top.

"Now it's well protected by a fierce lion" said Tyrion, grinning at his squire

The two continued to chat happily as Tyrion showed Nessa his new sword and book. Arya noticed her sister watching the two interact, a hint of longing in her blue eyes.

"Tyrion's name day is going well" said Arya, drawing her attention

"It is. He seems so surprised by everything"

"His family treated him horribly; all of this is new to him"

"I know – it just hurts to see" said Sansa "He doubts everything"

"Yeah, but he's getting better" said Arya "Don't think I haven't noticed the way he looks at you. It's obvious how much he cares"

Sansa's face flushed "I was so awful to him, I really don't deserve it"

"You made mistakes, but you're trying to fix them. Tyrion's trying too – you can see he's trying to open up around us"

"He is" said Sansa "Sometimes he's gets so quiet though; I'd give anything to know what he's thinking"

Over the past week Arya had caught both of them staring at each other, unable to say whatever was on their mind. It was easy enough to see though. They'd both suffered horrendously in their lives - Arya hoped they could make each other happy.

* * *

Sansa threaded her arms around Tyrion as he leaned heavily on the banister. This was the first time he'd attempted the stairs and she was more nervous than her husband. Lyon didn't appear terribly concerned as he trotted behind them.

"I'm ok Sansa" he said, breathing heavily "Just a little out of practice with stairs"

"You're doing well" she said "There's no rush at all"

They struggled down a couple more steps with Sansa gripping him for support. While he was wary of putting too much weight on his ankle, Tyrion's problem appeared to be endurance rather than pain. He'd admitted to her his ankle ached somewhat, but judging by his heavy breathing it was the exertion that was getting to him. Maester Wolkan had assured her Tyrion would regain his strength in time, but for now she was terrified of him stumbling in his tiredness.

"Rest here" she said as they reached the bottom of one flight "Not much further to go"

"I could do this all day" he said, though his face had paled considerably "Don't worry Sansa, I won't fall"

"I know you won't, but if you do - try to land on Arya"

Her younger sister swivelled around to glare at them "So that's why I'm here? To break Tyrion's fall?"

"Why else would I possibly ask you to stand in front of us while we came down stairs? If Tyrion falls, he needs a soft landing"

"You're his wife, shouldn't you be cushioning him?"

"Yes, but you're his little sister – that's the whole point of younger siblings"

Tyrion squirmed in her grasp, pushing himself forwards once more "As much as I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice Arya to save me, I have no intention of falling and ending up on bed rest again"

"For what it's worth Tyrion – if you fell I would save you" said Arya, turning around to resume their journey "Sansa however, is on her own"

Lyon barked in agreement and Sansa rolled her eyes, refocusing on Tyrion as they attempted the final steps. She'd planned this surprise in the great hall, but hadn't quite anticipated how difficult getting Tyrion down the stairs might be. Her husband appeared to be having a similar thought, as they made the final step down into the corridor.

"That was an adventure" he said, his chest heaving under her hand "Has anyone given any thought to getting back upstairs?"

"Sansa can carry you on her back" suggested Arya "Compared to the crushing weight of the North you'd be easy to carry"

The Queen combed her hand through Tyrion's unruly hair as he regained his breath "I'd carry you anywhere my love"

"As much as I appreciate that, I think I'd rather salvage some pride and crawl"

"Ready to carry on?" asked Arya, nodding down the hallway

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing?"

"No" said Sansa, linking his arm "It's a surprise"

Now they were back on level ground Sansa eased her grip from Tyrion, offering her arm for support. Arya led the way down the corridor until they came to a stop outside the side entrance to the great hall. Sansa nodded to her sister who made her way into the room, herself and Tyrion close behind. The lord of Winterfell took several steps into the hall before freezing, his arm tightening around Sansa's.

It had taken a lot of fast work but the Stark banners that hung around the hall were now interspersed with black banners bearing a golden lion. She watched in satisfaction as Tyrion's gaze roamed over the new decorations, before landing on the high table. The main table was nearly full - with Tyrion's friends sat there waiting for them to join.

"I wanted to give you a feast fit for a lord, but then I thought you might prefer something with your family and friends" she whispered to him

"Sansa…thank you"

"Do you like the new banners?"

He nodded, voice breaking "You didn't have to do this"

"I wanted to do this. Besides the lord of Winterfell is a lion and that should be clear for everyone to see"

"Thank you"

"You're always welcome. Shall we eat?"

They made their way over to the head table where Arya had already taken her place to the left of Sansa's seat. Lyon had quickly found his way to the bowl of food and drink left not far from the table for him and had eagerly begun lapping up the water.

The Queen helped Tyrion into his seat on her right as she sat in her usual place at the middle of the table. Whereas Sansa had wanted to throw a feast to honour Tyrion, Arya had pointed out he probably wouldn't enjoy being the centre of such an event – particularly when he could hardly walk around. Instead she'd planned a more intimate dinner and invited his friends. To her shame, Sansa had needed her sister's help to find out who his friends were and invite them. While she'd seen many of them visiting her husband, she was well aware they feared her. Even now they looked uncomfortable sat at the high table.

Directly opposite her was a youngish man she recognised as Alec, the captain of her guard. To either side of him sat the young brothers Lyle and Cayn, with a very old man sat in between Lyle and Brice. Next to Cayn sat Maester Wolkan, then an old woman who Sansa assumed was the seamstress, followed by Nessa next to Tyrion.

"Happy name day Tyrion" chirped Nessa, beaming up at him "Mother and Ethan are sorry they couldn't come, but it was too far for them"

"Thank you Nessa" said Tyrion, smiling at the girl "Please say hello to them for me"

"It's good to see you m'lord" said the old woman, leaning around Nessa to him "I was very worried for you"

Her husband's face flushed "I've missed visiting you. Thank you very much for the clothes too"

The woman dropped her voice, but Sansa heard her anyway "Anything for my favourite little lion"

Servants flew around the table putting out a huge spread of food and drink as the guests sat quietly, often glancing nervously at her. Nessa was the most at ease, but she was sat next to Tyrion and presumably thought he would protect her from the Queen. They were all members of the Winterfell household to some extent and it hurt to see their fear of her. None of the Winterfell household had ever feared her father or Robb – they'd been respected but not feared. Whatever reservations they had about their Queen, it was clear they all cared for Tyrion though. The distance between Sansa and her household was her own doing, but she wanted to change that. These people were her husband's friends and she wanted them to be comfortable around her too.

When all of the food and drink was laid out Sansa lifted her cup "I'd like to thank you all for joining us tonight to celebrate Tyrion's name day. A toast to the bravest man I know. He's a true lion and a true northerner - I couldn't be prouder to call him my husband. To lord Tyrion!"

"To lord Tyrion!" echoed the guests, joining her toast with enthusiasm

Tyrion shrunk into his seat as she spoke, his face flushing a bright red at the toast.

Arya was quick to attack the food and the guests followed her lead, breaking into quiet chatter. Sansa turned to Tyrion sat beside her - his green eyes bright and watery.

"Thank you Sansa" he said quietly "Everything you do for me…it's far more than I deserve"

Sansa kissed his cheek, adding softly "I love you more than anything Tyrion. Enjoy your name day sweetheart"

Tyrion's face grew even redder at the gesture, shooting her a shy smile before turning to his dinner. The atmosphere was light at the table, but there was an undeniable nervousness beneath it all that Sansa knew was her fault. She'd alienated the Winterfell household and small folk. While they clearly had great love for Tyrion, they were wary of her. Her husband seemed rather nervous too and Sansa was glad she hadn't thrown a huge feast for him. While the old Tyrion would have likely been deep into the wine and making crude jokes to entertain them by now, her husband's wine remained untouched as he sat quietly beside her.

It was to be expected. After the Wolfswood Tyrion had been locked away in their chambers all day, with only the occasional visits from his friends; this was the furthest he'd been for weeks. Sansa was determined to help Tyrion find his lost confidence. She understood Tyrion was a changed man from who he'd once been, but Sansa wanted him to be comfortable in his home - with his family and friends around him.

"Hey Tyrion" called Cayn, leaning across "We were telling Emory how much you missed helping him in the kennels"

"Aye, I'm sure he does" snorted the old man

Sansa's ears pricked up. She'd wondered who the old man was, though she had certainly seen him before.

"I have missed helping you" said Tyrion "Can't say I miss the smell of dog shit though"

Emory barked out a laugh "Lingers don't it? The lads here came to help a couple of times - not that they was any use"

"We tried" said Lyle rolling his shoulders "But it was hard work"

"My back ached for days afterwards" added Cayn

"I didn't get no complaints from lord Tyrion" said Emory, shaking his head "best kennel boy I ever had - didn't need to pay him neither"

Tyrion grinned beside her "So if this whole lordship thing doesn't work out I have a future as a kennel boy?"

"Aye, I'll have ya back. These green boys are useless"

Sansa's eyes flicked to Arya on her left and her sister didn't seem at all surprised that Tyrion had apparently been helping out in the kennels. She wasn't sure what shamed her more; that a man as old as Emory was doing such hard labour or that she didn't know her husband gave up his time to help.

The conversation moved along and she noticed Arya exchanging banter with Lyle, while Tyrion was absorbed in conversation with Esther and Nessa. Her sharp eyes observed the guests, focusing on Alec in particular. Arya was keen for her to build her own council of people she trusted and had mentioned the captain of the Winterfell guard several times. She'd seen him visiting Tyrion and according to Arya they were close friends. Trusting people was hard for Sansa but her sister was right; she had to try. A council to share the burden of ruling would be useful and her iciness to Tyrion a few days ago had amplified that point. Sansa did not want to lose herself under the crown ever again.

"Lord Tyrion, how is your hand?" asked Wolkan

"Better, thank you"

"That's good to hear. The procedure is rather unpleasant but the worst of the pain should be over" said the Maester, inclining his head

"That mean you're back to training soon?" asked Lyle, grinning at Tyrion

"I don't know..." said Tyrion, shrugging awkwardly

Getting Tyrion to accept his new sword had been as difficult as she'd expected, but there was no doubt in her mind in her mind about giving it to him. Sansa hoped he would never need to use it for anything more than training, but she felt better knowing he had something to defend himself with. For as long as she'd known Tyrion he rarely carried a weapon with him, unlike most men - particularly in the North. If he'd been armed the night he was taken, perhaps he could have escaped. She shook her head to clear the thoughts. It was no use dwelling on the past, but she would make sure Tyrion never left Winterfell unarmed again. Aside from that, Sansa had hoped giving him the sword might encourage him to continue with his newfound hobby and go some way to rebuilding his self-confidence.

Alec appeared to share a similar thought on training "You could still come and do some light exercise, or just hang out with us. We won't push you"

"I'd like to" said Tyrion, fiddling with his fork "I don't want to do more damage though"

"As long as it was light and you take your time I see no harm in doing some exercise my lord" said Wolkan, stroking his beard "Your injuries are healing well enough, though I fear the illness you suffered stole much of your strength. Perhaps when you are more comfortable moving around it would be a good way to aid your recovery"

"What do you think?" asked Tyrion, glancing up at her

"I think it's a good idea" she said, smiling at her husband "You're getting better every day"

"You should come" added Brice, gesturing to Lyle and Cayn "I can't take those two moping anymore that you aint there"

"Please come back" said Lyle, leaning forward in his seat "We need to have a rematch – I've been practicing!"

"I haven't" said Tyrion "I've been eating and napping"

"Not your fault my love" said Sansa, brushing her hand over his "I believe it was a royal decree that you had to rest"

"Ya should do it – might give the lad a chance" said Brice

Nessa straightened up in her seat "Tyrion could still win, even if he's hurt"

A chorus of laughter rang out at Nessa's innocent declaration, though Tyrion quickly turned to her "This is why you're my squire and they're not!"

The little girl beamed up at him "Don't worry Tyrion, if they're mean to you Lyon will eat them"

"I'm sure he will" laughed Tyrion, glancing at his friend in the corner

The direwolf's ears pricked up at his name, giving a soft bark of agreement.

"Might take him a while" snorted Lyle

"I don't know, he looks a fierce little thing" said Esther, watching the wolf

"He's clever too. Tyrion teaches him all sorts of tricks" added Arya, a smirk crossing her face

"He's not very big for a direwolf" mused Cayn "I thought they were as big as horses"

An impish grin spread across Tyrion's face "Oh, he's not big enough for you?"

The two brothers exchanged looks "We didn't mean..."

"I'd run boys" said Emory

"No point" said Brice, cheerfully downing his ale "kiss those fingers goodbye lads"

"Oh, Lyon" called Tyrion, grinning at his friends "They called you small"

The golden wolf moved from his bowl, coming to rest at Tyrion's side.

"We didn't mean it Lyon" said Cayn, pushing backwards in the chair

"It was Cayn" protested Lyle "I'm your friend!"

Lyon tilted his head to one side, observing his prey across the table.

"Direwolves are very fast, you know" said Wolkan, turning to the boys "If I were you I'd have started running minutes ago"

Alec leaned back in his chair "Reckon you two could use the workout"

Tyrion wound his hand through the wolf's fur, leaning closer to his ear "Lyon, chase!"

The wolf shot under the table as Lyle and Cayn scrambled out of their chairs and took off across the great hall. The high table descended into laughter as Lyon relentlessly chased them across the room.

"Go on Lyon!" cheered Arya "Defend your honour"

"Get them Lyon" said Nessa, bouncing in her seat

Tyrion's friends egged the direwolf on as the two boys darted around the room. Sansa's eyes found her husband. Tyrion was grinning widely at the scene; a lightness in his eyes that she rarely saw. She wrapped her arm around him, tugging him into a hug. Green eyes rose to meet hers, and Sansa found herself smiling. There was still a lot of healing to do, but the spark of joy in her husband's face gave her hope. The darkness that clung to her husband had lifted, even if only for a night – and for Sansa that was enough to make everything worth it.

* * *

Following dinner they'd returned to their chambers, with the guests and Arya drifting off towards their own beds and homes. Getting upstairs had been exhausting and Tyrion's energy was ebbing as Sansa helped him into his bed clothes. Rather than go straight to bed they'd sat on the chaise together, the hearth crackling cheerfully as it warmed the room.

Today had been unbelievable. When Sansa had brought him North and asked for his help, he'd assumed he would work until he died. He'd never imagined that Winterfell could be his home, or the Starks would take him as family.

He'd sat with Sansa reading some of the book Arya had gifted him, before settling against each other and talking idly about different things. Sansa had offered him some wine which he'd refused, but the Queen had poured herself some and now sat sipping it beside him – her arm draped around his shoulders. There was so much he wanted to say to Sansa, but the words never seemed to come. He wanted to try; more than ever he wanted Sansa to know how he felt. Despite his resolve, Tyrion's stomach fluttered with nerves as he turned to the woman beside him.

"Sansa – I can't thank you enough"

"You don't need to thank me at all"

Tyrion shook his head "Yes, I do. My name day has never been particularly pleasant until today. The last few years I've ignored it completely"

Her face softened as she tightened her grip around him "You won't be ignoring it ever again. Did your family never celebrate your name day?"

"It was never really cause for celebration"

Sansa's mouth turned downwards "Because you're a dwarf?"

"Partly" he agreed "But the main reason was always mother"

Understanding dawned across Sansa's face "Oh, gods. I never even thought of that..."

"Its fine" he said quickly "As much as I always wondered what my mother was like, the loss of someone I never knew didn't give me any particular grief over my name day. Though it did cause my family to treat the day with more disdain than usual – they always blamed me for mother's death"

"How could they possibly blame you for that? It's ridiculous"

"Jamie never blamed me, but father and Cersei did. They celebrated my name day because it was expected of them – to preserve the family image. Their hatred of me was always less well-hidden on that day however"

Sansa's soft blue eyes met his "I'm so sorry Tyrion"

"Don't be sorry" he said, offering her a smile "I'm only telling you this so you understand. Today meant a lot to me Sansa. Not because of all your wonderful gifts; which I truly appreciate, but because you and Arya went out of your way to make today special. You had no obligation - I wouldn't have minded if you ignored the day completely. There was no reason for you to do anything at all, but you did and it meant the world to me"

"We did it because we're your family" she said, lightly rubbing his shoulder "We love you so very much"

Tyrion's heart sped up, frantically pounding in his chest "I know you do"

Before he could talk himself out of it Tyrion turned to Sansa, lightly pressing his lips to her cheek

"Thank you" he said as he quickly pulled back, his stomach stirring as he gauged her reaction.

To his relief her face lit up, blue eyes sparkling as she met his gaze. Tyrion had struggled for days with trying to give Sansa some sign of his love. The words always failed him and he'd worried she may reject his physical affection. The brief flash of disgust in her eyes when they'd kissed at their wedding in Kings Landing always lurked in the back of his mind.

Now he could see nothing but love. She looked happy – not at all disgusted that he'd kissed her. Warmth spread through his chest and without thinking he leaned towards Sansa. She met him half way, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth which he hesitantly returned. Tyrion's mind went blank. This was like nothing he'd experienced before. Sansa had kissed his mouth a few times, but it was always brief and he'd never responded to it. Now, his body reacted with enthusiasm; their tentative kiss growing more comfortable by the second.

After a few moments, he pulled back – some of his sense returning even as he felt a long absent stirring in his lower region. He wanted to show Sansa his love for her, but he didn't want to give her the wrong idea either. He might never be ready to go further. Fortunately Sansa seemed to understand his withdrawal, smiling warmly at him as she stroked her hand through his hair.

"I'm glad you enjoyed today" she said, her face glowing "You look tired, my love"

"Yes" he said, fiddling with his sling "It's been rather a busy day"

"Shall we go to bed?" she asked, before adding "We could both use some sleep"

Tyrion let out a breath at her clarification of going to bed. He nodded and they set about making their way across the room. A knot of nerves unwound within him as they climbed beneath the sheets, Sansa kissing his head lightly before turning to extinguish the lights.

"Sleep well Tyrion" she said, before settling under the covers

"Good night"

Sansa had kept her word. Tyrion's heart swelled as he cast a final glance at his wife. He'd kissed her and she'd kissed him back. It was nothing like her controlling affections early in their relationship - it was gentle and caring. The doubting voice in his mind was strangely silent as he settled down to sleep beside her.

* * *

"Suppose this is as good a time as any to meet the neighbours, eh?" said Bronn, strolling beside Bran's wheelchair as Pod pushed him up the path to Greywater Watch

"We need a good relationship with the North" said Bran "Yourself and Lord Reed will bear the most responsibility for maintaining the border between Kingdoms"

"Better you don't offend them Ser Bronn" said Brienne, hand on sword as she escorted them in

Several of house Reed's guards had met them outside the gate, leading them into an audience within the castle. It was a respectful reception for a visiting King. If the North was still part of Westeros this visit would have been a celebrated occasion. If Bran hadn't lost the friendship he once had with Meera things might be different.

"Never cared for the neck much, bogs everywhere. One minute you're walking the next you're sinking. Makes the castle hard to take though" said Bronn pointing at the lands surrounding the castle

"We're here on an important visit; not to plunder the place" said Brienne, shooting a glare at Bronn

"I aint gonna plunder it" said Bronn "but that fancy armour of yours will sink ya quicker than anything. I'd be wary straying from the path if I were you"

"The swamps around here are damned dangerous if you're in a boat too. In bad weather it's hard to judge where the sea ends and the swamp begins" said Ser Davos, walking at his other side

"Quite right Ser Davos. If you were a less competent smuggler you'd have died in the swamp here all those years ago" said Bran

The older man's gaze grew uneasy at the reminder of Bran's power. The King sighed. Conversations weren't as simple as they used to be. The power of the three eyed raven made it easy to see so much, and the knowledge leaked into Bran's subconscious constantly. Controlling what he said was difficult when he could see through a thousand eyes. It was a learning process; balancing Bran and the three-eyed raven.

At first he'd believed Bran Stark was dead, but he was in there somewhere; a piece of him that wasn't consumed by the raven. That was what this visit was all about; Bran Stark.

The doors to the hall were opened and Bran was wheeled in with Brienne in front of him, Ser Davos and Bronn either side of him. His sworn shield pushed him in the centre of the room while the Reed guards took up position around the hall. Brienne had wanted them to bring guards of their own; Bran knew there was no need. The rest of his party had made camp on some of the safer lands surrounding Greywater Watch with lord Reed's blessing. Bran was stopping here on his way to visit their Queen after all – hospitality was expected.

"King Bran" greeted lord Reed, inclining his head slightly "I welcome you to Greywater Watch. Our hospitality is yours"

The man was short with brown hair turning grey; far older than he'd looked at the tower of joy. He reminded Bran of Jojen. Stood to his side was Meera. Her dark hair was longer than it used to be, but she still carried a spear as she stood to the side of the lord's seat.

"I must thank you lord Reed" said Bran "not for your hospitality though. Your son and daughter risked their lives to keep me safe; to lead me beyond the wall so I could become the three-eyed raven. I'm sorry for Jojen - he was my friend"

The lord stiffened at the mention of his son, before slumping into his seat "Thank you. Jojen had the green sight – he knew the risks when he led you beyond the wall, as did Meera"

_'You don't need me anymore'_

_'No, I don't'_

The three-eyed raven felt nothing as the memory of those words washed over him - but Bran did.

"Lady Meera, I owe you an apology" said Bran, turning to his former friend "the last time we spoke I was quite cold to you. I should have thanked you properly for everything you sacrificed for me. You were my friend"

Her face was guarded as she answered "Bran Stark was my friend, you're not him anymore"

"I wasn't. Seeing so much so suddenly - it changed everything. I'll never be as I was"

"I liked Bran Stark"

"He's still alive" said Bran, attempting a smile "I found him somewhere"

The corners of Meera's mouth twitched upwards and lord Reed looked between them, shifting awkwardly in his seat "Your rooms are prepared King Bran. We look forward to hosting you for dinner this evening"

Bran nodded his head at the lord as servants appeared to show them to their chambers. This visit wasn't strictly necessary, but the loss of Meera's friendship often drifted through his mind. At the very least Bran had wanted to offer some kind of acknowledgement to house Reed that their sacrifices on his behalf hadn't meant nothing to him.

* * *

The days following Tyrion's name day passed in a blur of preparation for Bran's visit. Tyrion continued to improve, walking further each day with Sansa to assist him. As she busied herself going over the trade deal that would be signed with Bran, she found her gaze wandering to her husband sat across from her.

When Tyrion kissed her the other night, Sansa had almost wept with joy. She'd resigned herself to the possibility Tyrion may never return her affections, as much as she knew he cared for her. That he'd reached out to her meant everything. After he'd kissed her cheek, Tyrion had leaned forwards and she'd been unable to stop herself from kissing him properly. Much to her joy Tyrion had responded, sending a thrill through her body that set her nerves on fire. It had been so easy to lose herself kissing Tyrion, but she didn't want to push him any further than he wanted to go. He was in control, and she wanted that to be clear.

Since then they'd fallen into a habit of sharing a kiss each night before bed. It varied each time. Some nights it was the briefest brush against each other and some nights they kissed until they were flushed and panting. Whichever it was Sansa left it up to her husband – she was happy with whatever affection he was willing to give. They'd kiss until Tyrion pulled back, both settling down to sleep straight after.

"Everything alright Sansa?"

Tyrion's deep voice drew her from her thoughts, heat rising up her neck at the realisation she'd been staring at him "Very well, thank you"

He raised an eyebrow "Really? You've been pretending to read that trade agreement for quite some time"

"It's not the most exciting read"

"I'm sure it isn't" he said "These letters aren't any more exciting, though Lady Barbrey Dustin has replied to my letter. She claims to have received a similar offer of joining a rebellion as house Mazin did. She didn't know who it was from and ignored it entirely"

"At least she hasn't joined them as far as we know"

"I doubt she would" said Tyrion "Lady Dustin is rather old and her letter makes it quite clear she's had enough of war. She does mention writing to you a few times and receiving no reply though"

Tyrion passed her the letter as he moved to the next in his pile. Sansa scanned the contents, her heart sinking. This was the second house they knew of that had been approached and had refused to join a rebellion against her. It was good news, but Sansa feared how many houses had received an offer and accepted it.

"House Dustin are one of the bigger Northern houses, if they'd gone against me it might have caused huge problems" she mused, re-reading the letter

When she gained no response Sansa lowered the letter, her eyes quickly seeking her husband. Tyrion's face had lost all colour; his hand trembling at the letter he clutched.

"What's wrong?" she asked, moving from her chair to go to his side

His eyes were haunted as she tugged the letter from his grip.

_Hello lord of Winterfell,_

_I heard you survived your experience in the Wolfswood, though I'm sure it left its mark on you. I'm actually quite pleased you survived – we have unfinished business after all. You think you're safe, but you're not. Winter is coming for the Starks and when they're dead they'll be no-one left for you to hide behind. You'll be my pet and I'll break you in properly this time._

_So many ideas and plans for you my pet, I can barely sleep with excitement. I'm sure you miss me just as much, but you already have a permanent reminder of our time together if you get lonely._

_Fear not; we'll be together again soon._

Bile burned up Sansa's throat as she read the unsigned letter, her heart hammering in her chest. This could only be from Robin and Gawan. Glancing down she found Tyrion's face twisted in fear.

Without hesitating Sansa dropped to her knees beside his chair, pulling her husband against her. He was stiff in her embrace but Sansa could feel the light tremble in his body; betraying his attempt to hide his fear.

"I won't let them hurt you" she said, running her hand through the back of his hair "We'll find them and they'll pay for what they've done. No-one is going to take you from me ever again, I promise"


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Sansa, for what could have been the hundredth time

"I'm sure Sansa. I've ignored my duties for too long" said Tyrion, limping down the corridor with Sansa hovering nervously at his side

Arya followed behind them as they turned towards the great hall. It had been almost six weeks since Tyrion returned from the Wolfswood, and slowly his strength was returning. With Bran due to arrive tomorrow Tyrion had wanted to hold court as the lord of Winterfell at least once before then. Sansa was worried about him pushing himself too far too fast, but Arya thought it was a good idea. Tyrion hadn't been seen in public since he'd been brought home, and Bran's visit was going to be very public; she understood his desire to return to some duties before the royal visit.

That was before the letter had arrived this morning, however. Arya had been summoned immediately to her sister's chambers and presented with the letter those vile creatures had written to her brother. Her hand tightened around needle's hilt recalling the words. How dare they threaten Tyrion?

It was obvious the letter had shaken Tyrion, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Both her and Sansa had reassured Tyrion no-one would hurt him and justice would be done. He'd smiled and thanked them; insisting he continue with his plan to hold court. Sansa had been more reluctant than ever. If her sister had her way, Arya thought she might confine Tyrion to their chambers for the rest of his life. She understood Sansa wanted to protect him – Arya did too; but he couldn't be kept hidden away forever.

"My love, that letter was horrible – maybe we should go back upstairs. No-one will blame you if you need more time" said Sansa, as they paused outside the door

Tyrion sighed "I'm fine, really. It's a stupid letter from stupid boys"

That wasn't true in the slightest; it had clearly bothered him. The letter was cruel and taunting. When she'd arrived in their chambers, Tyrion's face had been white as a sheet as Sansa held him against her.

"It'll be fine" said Arya "I'm going to stay with him anyway"

"That's not necessary" said Tyrion

Arya watched the indecision flicker across her sister's face. She was Queen – she could overrule Tyrion and bar him from his duties as lord. Doing so would undermine his already fragile confidence though. Arya saw no harm in letting Tyrion hold court; if nothing else it might distract him from what he'd read.

"If you're sure" said Sansa, visibly deflating "but Arya is staying with you"

"Really-"

"Please" said Sansa, holding up her hand to stop him "for my peace of mind let Arya stay"

"Alright" he said, nodding "It'll be fine Sansa"

"I know" said Sansa "but I worry about you. You're still recovering"

Hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor until Nessa came into view, Lyon trotting ahead of her.

"Just in time" said Tyrion, forcing a smile at the young girl "I could certainly use my squire's help to hold court"

Nessa beamed at him "I'm ready Tyrion. I told Lyon to be quick hunting so we wouldn't be late"

"Suppose you're going to take a nap now?" said Tyrion, scratching at the wolf's ear

Lyon made no move to leave, sitting obediently at Tyrion's feet.

"You can't stay" Tyrion told him "I'm holding court"

"He should stay" said Sansa, eyes lighting up "the lord of Winterfell should have his direwolf with him"

Tyrion's brow furrowed "Is that really appropriate?"

"Absolutely" said Arya "Bran says Robb always brought Grey Wind with him when he heard petitioners"

"If you're sure"

"Please do" said Sansa "Direwolves are highly intelligent; if they take a dislike to someone be very wary"

Arya snorted "Lyon barely likes you"

Sansa's face reddened "We're working on it"

"Oh, very well" said Tyrion, patting the wolf's head "You can join me for court, but no napping"

Lyon barked in agreement, his tail wagging. Nessa tugged at Tyrion's sleeve "Ready Tyrion?"

"I think so" he said, turning to the Queen "I'll see you later Sansa"

Sansa still looked torn as Tyrion turned towards the great hall, limping on his own as Nessa eagerly pushed the door open and went to begin her duties as squire. His mobility had improved a lot, though he was still hobbling on his broken ankle.

"He'll be fine" offered Arya, brushing her sister's arm "I'll keep an eye on him"

"Tyrion won't be safe until they're dead" said Sansa "that letter..."

"I know. They'll pay for that"

"They need to pay soon"

"Bran arrives tomorrow" said Arya "maybe he can help"

Sansa's voice was flat as she answered "I doubt that very much"

"Either way, we will find them Sansa – I promise"

The Queen nodded, casting a final look at her husband as he made his way to his seat. Already petitioners were lining the hall to see him, with a number of guards stationed around the room to keep order. Injured as he was, Tyrion still looked impressive as he took his seat on the platform, Lyon at his side. The letter had undoubtedly shaken him, but he was refusing to let it show.

"I should get going" said Arya, stepping towards the great hall "Good luck with your meeting"

Her sister's eyes were filled with worry as she reluctantly turned away from Tyrion "Keep him safe"

* * *

Sat in the meeting room with Maester Wolkan at her side, Sansa studied the man sat opposite her. The captain of the Winterfell guard seemed relaxed enough; though his eyes were alert and focused.

"Do you know why I invited you to this meeting?" she asked

"No, your Grace" replied Alec

"As Queen I'm responsible for the North – and it's a huge responsibility"

"You handle it well, your Grace"

Sansa inclined her head, deciding to get straight to the point "Since becoming Queen I've handled as much as I could alone, with limited success. You must understand trust does not come easily to me, but recent events have shown where my real priorities lie, and I will not lose myself beneath a crown again"

Alec nodded, saying nothing.

"To ease the burden of ruling and more effectively rule the North I need a council of trusted advisors. People I can trust to handle issues without the need for constant supervision. I need a council whose loyalty to my family is unquestionable"

Sansa sucked in a breath, eyes locked onto the man opposite her "I'd like you to join my council"

Alec's eyes showed a flicker of surprise, before a small smile crossed his face "You honour me, your Grace"

"Arya suggested I add you to my council, and my husband thinks very highly of you – they are the people I trust most in the world. After conferring with both of them I made my decision. Do you accept?"

The man bowed his head "Certainly your Grace. I will do my best to serve you"

Sansa nodded, turning to Wolkan "You have been a loyal advisor Maester, and I wish to reaffirm your place on my council. Moving forwards I will not allow myself to be consumed by work and require a trusted advisor such as yourself to aid me"

"I am yours to command, your Grace" said the old man, bowing his head

Sansa relaxed in her chair somewhat. A council was necessary – Arya was right. Being the Queen was a huge honour, but the crown had nearly cost her Tyrion and that was unacceptable. Aside from that, the closer she grew to her husband the more she resented the endless work that consumed her day. A council could help. It would give her more time to spend with those who really mattered. The only real barrier was her trust issues. She'd asked Tyrion's opinion on a council and he'd agreed with Arya that it was a good idea; no Queen could possibly do everything alone.

"Now that's settled, I fear we must press on to less pleasant business" she said, pulling a letter from the folds of her gown "Tyrion received this letter with his usual correspondence this morning. It bears no name or sigil, but it's clear where it came from"

She passed it to Wolkan, watching the Maester's face pale at the words "Your Grace, I beg your forgiveness. When I sent your correspondence to you both this morning, I had no idea..."

"There's nothing to forgive. Many merchants write to Tyrion who use no seal, he assumed it was one of them until he read it"

Wordlessly the Maester passed it to Alec. The captain of the guards face grew dark as he read it, anger sparking in his calm eyes "We've still heard no word of their whereabouts, your Grace"

"I suspected as much" she said, sighing heavily "Bran arrives tomorrow and several lords and ladies will follow a few days after to witness the signing of the trade agreement. Winterfell is going to be busy and security needs to be increased, especially around Tyrion. No-one will hurt him ever again"

"Understood" said Alec "I'll co-ordinate with the Tallhart and Cerwyn captain's. No-one unauthorised will be permitted within Winterfell"

Sansa nodded in approval, glancing to Wolkan "Is there any way to trace where the raven carrying that message came from?"

"I will do all I can, your Grace" said the Maester "But it's highly unlikely"

"Its possible my brother will help us when he arrives, but we cannot rely on that" said Sansa, clutching her hands in her lap "Whatever it takes – Robin and Gawan must be brought to justice as soon as possible"

"Of course, your Grace" said Wolkan "with your leave I will make enquiries into the origins of this letter right away"

"Please do" she said, turning her gaze to Alec "If you could make the necessary arrangements to secure Winterfell, and increase the guard around Grey Worm. I'd hoped we could have taken his head by now, but he's a key witness against Gawan and Robin. He can't die until they're brought to justice – as much as I want him to"

"It will be done" said Alec, adding darkly "I'd quite happily take his head too"

Sansa nodded, satisfied with the beginnings of her council. While the Maester was nearly always present at meetings, Sansa did intend on giving him more authority and trusting him with her work. His care of Tyrion had been exemplary and she did trust him. While she didn't know Alec particularly well, Tyrion was good friends with him and his easy going manner reminded Sansa fiercely of Jory. Arya had once shared a similar sentiment with her. For too long she'd put her trust in the wrong places; this time she hoped it wasn't misplaced.

* * *

Tyrion's body ached as he limped towards the practice yard, Lyon trotting happily at his side. This was the first time he'd been outside for weeks and his battered body was protesting the exertion. Court had gone fairly well, and many of the petitioners had expressed their joy at his return to duty. Escaping Arya's watchful gaze afterwards had been more difficult. He'd told her where he was going and she'd immediately offered to accompany him. As much as he appreciated her and Sansa's fussing, he just needed to be alone for a while. Arya's grey eyes had filled with sympathy and she'd reluctantly agreed to let him go alone. Since he'd received that letter this morning they'd watched him like he was about to break down, no matter how much he told them it didn't bother him.

_'It does bother you'_ taunted his fear _'they're coming to get you'_

Maybe it bothered him a little. At the very least it had ignited the dark voices in his mind; taunting him with what Robin and Gawan would do to him.

_'I've missed you my pet_' sang Gawan's voice in his ear, as he trudged onwards

No. He wouldn't let them bother him.

_'Sansa and Arya can join the fun too. Do you want to hear a wolf cry?'_

Tyrion screwed his eyes shut as his heart pounded furiously in his chest. No – he wouldn't let that happen. He had to get stronger; had to protect them. The practice yard came into view but Tyrion was already exhausted. His ankle ached fiercely at the prolonged movement and his arm was still strapped across his chest. Frustration boiled through him as his body trembled. Why was he so weak? He loved Sansa and Arya – he wanted to protect them; but it was hopeless. Of the three of them he was by far the most helpless.

As he moved forwards his foot caught on the top of a rock concealed by the snow fall, he staggered forwards a couple of steps before the icy snow rose up to meet him. The air was knocked from his lungs as the cold immediately seeped into his clothes, chilling him. He threw his head back shaking off the snow, tension curling through his body.

He lashed out with his good hand striking the snow in front of him several times in rapid succession, while Lyon nudged against him. It wasn't fair. He was trying to be better than his family; to make amends – but every step he tried to take was like climbing a never-ending mountain. How pathetic must he look? A crippled dwarf playing lord of Winterfell; lying face down in the snow. Surely his father and sister were laughing at him from whichever hell they'd ended up in. He missed Jamie. His big brother wouldn't laugh; he'd help-

"Need a hand?"

Tyrion's head jerked up at the voice to find Alec crouching in front of him – his hand outstretched.

"This must look rather pathetic" he muttered, lowering his gaze

"Only if you stay down" said Alec, pushing his hand towards him "let me help"

Shame filled Tyrion as he accepted the offer, Alec pulling him to his feet as the snow dripped off him.

"Heading to the practice yard?" he asked cheerfully

"I was...but it was a stupid idea" said Tyrion, biting his lip "Thanks for the help..."

"Why's it stupid? You won't get stronger unless you train" said Alec "That's why you're going there isn't it?"

He shifted awkwardly on the spot "It was"

"The Queen added me to her council earlier on"

Tyrion forced a smile "Congratulations"

"I'm very honoured. She showed me that letter too"

He fiddled with the sling around his arm "It's just a stupid letter"

"They're taunting you"

"I'm quite used to that – I've had a lifetime of experience. It doesn't bother me"

Alec's face softened "It doesn't bother you? It bothered me"

"Yes...well I'm sure there are things you'd rather be doing. Thanks for the help" said Tyrion dropping his head as he turned to leave "Come Lyon"

Thankfully the snow had cushioned his fall and he didn't seem to have done any damage, though his ankle and arm were still aching.

A hand on his shoulder halted him "I thought you wanted to train?"

"How am I supposed to do that?" said Tyrion, looking back at Alec "I can't even get down here without falling over. How can I protect Sansa and Arya when I couldn't even protect myself? I'm weak"

"From what I heard you could have protected yourself. You could have escaped from the Wolfswood alone, but you didn't. You single-handedly protected forty women – saving them from a life of abuse and cruelty"

Tyrion froze, his words sticking in his throat as Alec continued.

"What you suffered was inhuman – but it wasn't because you're weak. You suffered because you were strong enough to protect those who couldn't protect themselves"

"No, that's not..."

"It is true" said Alec "I won't pretend to understand what you're going through Tyrion, but I'll help you as much as you'll let me"

Tyrion's throat grew tight "Thank you"

Alec smiled, patting his shoulder "Come on. You'll get your strength back in no time"

He didn't resist as his friend steered him towards the practice yard.

"I don't want to be their victim again" he said, dropping his voice "I'd rather die"

"You won't be" promised Alec

They'd taken a few steps when Tyrion realised something was missing "Wait, where's Lyon?"

"Wondering where you are" said Alec, pointing at the practice yard where the direwolf was tapping his paws impatiently

* * *

Despite the warmth of her chambers, Sansa couldn't help but find it cold without Tyrion. She'd expected him to return to their chambers after he held court, but Arya had appeared instead - saying he'd gone to the practice yard.

"Why would you let him go alone?" she'd snapped

Arya had rolled her eyes "You really think I ditched him? It's obvious he wanted some space after getting the letter those bastards wrote to him. I followed from a distance to make sure he was ok"

"You're not with him now"

"Relax, Alec ran into him and they went the practice yard together. I wasn't going to hang around and spy on him"

"I…I'm just worried about him" she'd said

Arya's face had softened "I know, but Tyrion's got a lot to work through. Taking out some frustration on a practice dummy might help him. Alec's with him anyway"

Since then Sansa had tried to busy herself in her chambers but her mind kept wandering back to Tyrion. He was regaining his independence, and Sansa was thrilled about that - as much as it scared her. The past few weeks they'd barely parted from one another. Tyrion's injuries and subsequent illness had left him helpless and part of her had enjoyed caring for him, despite the circumstances. Now he was healing she feared the closeness they'd been building would fade away.

It was a couple of hours after Arya visited when the door creaked open, Tyrion limping heavily into the room. She turned in her seat at the desk, eyes immediately checking him over. He looked dirty and exhaustion was etched on his face, even so he smiled at her.

"Hello Sansa"

He trudged over to the table, dropping into the chair next to her.

"Tyrion" she said, smiling warmly at him "I missed you"

"Oh, yes…after court I went to the practice yard"

He dropped his head as if bracing to be scolded. As much as Sansa had worried over him, this was his home and he could do what he liked - he didn't need to ask permission.

"Did it go well?"

"About as well as could be expected, I suppose" he said, glancing warily up at her "How was your day?"

"I got through all the work I needed to, and asked Alec to join the new council"

He nodded "Alec told me - he's a good man, you can trust him"

"I hope so" she said "Maester Wolkan wanted to see you. Since you're more mobile now he thinks the splint can come off your ankle and he wants to check your hand too"

"Suppose I should go and see him then"

Tyrion rose wearily from the chair as Sansa's heart twisted "Would you mind if I come too?"

"Of course not" he said, offering her a smile

Sansa stood, lightly kissing his head as she linked her arm through his "We'll see Wolkan and get dinner - I'm eager to hear how your first day back at court went"

They made their way to the door and Sansa tightened her grip on her husband. Whatever happened she didn't want to lose her closeness to Tyrion.

* * *

A fierce ache enveloped Tyrion as he forced his eyes open. The sword practice yesterday had left him utterly exhausted. Alec had been nothing but patient as he struck the practice dummy with a training sword, however feeble his efforts were. The effort had drained what little energy he had and by the time he'd gone to bed he'd slept deeply enough that no nightmares plagued him. That was the one good thing. Today he was paying for it as he rolled awkwardly up in the bed, his eyes finding Sansa already dressed and brushing her hair.

"Good morning" she called at the sound of him rustling "I wondered if you were going to sleep through Bran's visit"

_'Is that an option?'_ he thought.

There was no part of him that was excited for this visit, particularly since Bronn, Brienne, Davos and Pod were coming too. His exile from Westeros had been humiliating, as much as he deserved it. Everything he'd suffered since then had only added to his humiliation. He wasn't who he used to be, and was rather wary of seeing them. He'd supported a Queen who'd slaughtered innocents after all - how could they even look at him?

"Tyrion?"

Sansa's concerned voice drew him from his thoughts and he flashed her a smile "Sorry Sansa, I fear I'm still half asleep"

The Queen's blue eyes studied him; her lips pursed "Are you feeling ok?"

"I'm fine" he said, stretching his body as he slid to the floor "It's nice to move my ankle again"

Maester Wolkan had removed the splint last night, though he'd wrapped a few bandages around the limb for extra support. His arm hadn't fared so well and the sling would have to be worn for at least a few more days, as would the tight splint around his hand.

"At least now you can wear your normal clothes and boots" said Sansa "the bandages on your arm aren't too bulky now either. Get changed and I'll find a tunic that will fit nicely and help you put your sling on"

He hobbled behind his screen tugging off the bed clothes Esther had made him. He found he preferred them to a night shift - he felt less exposed in bed with the light breeches covering his private area. His ankle was stiff as he awkwardly pulled on a good pair of black breeches, more used to the easy fitting pairs Esther had sent him. Sansa could be heard rustling through his draws for what she considered an appropriate tunic. While he was perfectly capable of finding one, it was somewhat sweet that Sansa still wanted to help him even though he was recovering.

His breeches on, Tyrion wandered out from behind his screen in search of a shift to go under his tunic. Sansa was still distracted in his draws when Tyrion noticed himself in the mirror. He never cared to look at his reflection and usually avoided seeing himself. Unwittingly he'd walked past the long mirror in the corner of the room and the sight that met him was gruesome.

He was a monster.

There was no other way to describe himself.

He was thin to the point of being scrawny, a raw scar cutting down from his chest and across his ribs. His face was even worse. His old battle scar once again bright red as it split his face - no beard to hide the disfigurement. Even his hair was far shorter than normal, exposing more of his face. His heart plummeted as he took in his appearance. Yet another jagged scar carved across his upper arm. Almost against his will he turned sideways in the mirror.

The mess of lash marks across his back stood out as ugly as ever, but that wasn't what he was looking for. His eyes were drawn to the pattern burned into the back of his shoulder. When he closed his eyes he could still feel the hot iron melting into his back. The brand had burned and ached for weeks - a constant reminder of its presence, but Tyrion hadn't actually seen it. What he did see turned his stomach. A large circle covered the back of his left shoulder, a series of lines and curves contained within it. The pattern was unique enough that Robin and Gawan's slaves would be easily identified even after they'd been sold. The burnt skin was red and raw - a permanent mark.

_'You're mine'_ sang Gawan's voice in his ear

He swallowed thickly, reaching across himself with his right arm to touch it. His fingers were just able to brush the top of the brand and a flash of pain went through him at the contact. How could Sansa bear to look at him? He was an imp. A twisted little monster.

A warm hand closed around his own, gently guiding it from the brand as Sansa's regal reflection appeared in the mirror behind his own. A hollow ache rose in his chest as he took in her proud face framed by fiery hair. She was beautiful - how was she not disgusted by him?

The Queen knelt behind him, resting her head on his right shoulder as she rubbed his hand. Tears of shame formed at the corners of his eyes as he struggled to repress a tremor.

"I love you" she said, her blue eyes reflected back at him. Unflinching from his monstrous form.

"How can you even look at me?" he choked out

"Very easily"

"I'm a monster. I'm not fit to be your husband; I'm not fit to empty your chamber pot"

Sansa tightened her grip on his hand "Don't talk about yourself like that. You are the man I love"

"Have you seen me?" he asked, warm tears trickling down his face "You dreamed of a knight in shining armour or a handsome prince. Instead you got stuck with me"

"I didn't get stuck with you. I chose you Tyrion"

"Why would anyone do that?"

Sansa sighed, snaking her arms around him. Her eyes remained locked on their reflection in the mirror.

"In Kings Landing, Father planned to break my engagement to Joffrey - I was devastated of course, like the stupid little girl I was. He promised to make me a match with a man who was brave and gentle and strong. You are all those things and so much more, my love"

He stared at the reflection of himself in the mirror, Sansa's body entwined with his. Her eyes held nothing but tenderness as she stared back at him.

"You don't see what I do" whispered Tyrion

"Do you know what I see?" said Sansa, studying their reflection "I see the warmest green eyes that could only be yours. I see curly golden hair, which I adore"

She moved her hand, lightly brushing the long scar on his chest and sending a tingle through his body.

"I see scars that prove your courage; that you're a hero" she continued, her eyes never leaving their reflection "but most importantly, I see you Tyrion. I see all of you - and I love everything that you are"

The tears were escaping freely now as Tyrion stared at their reflection. He still couldn't believe it; he might never believe it - but Sansa did. That alone soothed some of the deep ache inside him.

"Who am I to disagree with a Queen?"

* * *

It was nearly midday when Bran's entourage was spotted and the activity within Winterfell ramped up to frantic. Servants scuttled about the castle as the household moved to the gate to receive the visitors. The crown rested heavily on Sansa's head as she made her way across the courtyard, her long grey gown and Stark cloak sweeping behind her. Arya walked to her left, dressed in a long tunic and slim breeches, the Stark direwolf stitched neatly throughout the design. At her right was Tyrion, doing his best to hide the limp his ankle was causing.

Her heart twisted as she glanced at her husband. Tyrion was wearing a fine black tunic with golden lions stitched delicately across the fabric, the heavy cloak she'd gifted him for his name day hanging over him. As far as Sansa was concerned he looked very handsome, but that obviously wasn't what Tyrion thought. Seeing himself in the mirror had upset him so suddenly, it had taken her a moment to realise what was wrong. As vain as it sounded, Sansa had always been told she was beautiful. The scars she'd received from Ramsay had dulled some of her youthful arrogance but even then she'd never been ashamed of her body the way Tyrion was.

It had been strange to see his insecurities laid out so plainly. She knew he didn't like his body, but the self-loathing in his eyes had been gut-wrenching. She'd done what she could to soothe him, and it seemed to have eased some of his anguish. Eventually she'd drawn him away from the mirror and helped him get ready for Bran's visit. She'd chosen his finest clothes making sure the lion sigil was visible. He'd appeared somewhat uncomfortable with the choice but Sansa didn't want him to hide who he was. She'd fastened his new cloak around him making sure to tell him how handsome he looked when she was finished. His left arm needed to remain in a sling and he'd reluctantly let her secure the damaged limb against him once more.

Watching him now the earlier vulnerability was once again hidden, but that didn't matter – Sansa knew it was there. The haunted look on his face when he'd reached to touch the brand on his shoulder had sent hot anger through Sansa. It wasn't fair. Those monsters hurt him so badly, but they were free – Tyrion continued to suffer. There was no doubt in Sansa's mind the letter he'd received yesterday had brought his insecurities to the surface, however much he tried to pretend it hadn't bothered him.

Coming to the gate of Winterfell, Sansa took her place in front as the rest of the household fell in behind her. Arya stood beside her, but she noticed Tyrion slowing down as if to hang back with the guards and servants. She moved her arm around his shoulders, gently tugging him along to stand with her and Arya.

"You belong with your family" she said gently at his questioning gaze

Tyrion nodded, his green eyes wandering to the road where several horses were now visible in the distance. He was nervous about Bran's visit; that much was plain to see. Truth be told Sansa was nervous too. She loved her brother, but the three-eyed raven unnerved her.

The pounding of hooves drew her attention as several riders flew just beyond them, a litter rattling in their wake. While she was nervous of seeing Bran, her heart leapt at the sight of a knight with a white cloak just in front of the litter; she had missed Brienne.

The lord commander dismounted easily, moving immediately to the litter. Guards bustled about the door, moving like a well-oiled machine to position a wheelchair until stepping back to reveal the King of the six kingdoms.

"Queen Sansa" greeted Bran

His dark hair was neatly cut and he was dressed in a fine dark blue tunic, a heavy cloak set around him and a blanket covering his legs.

His wheelchair was pushed towards her by his sworn shield; Podrick Payne. More of the guards dismounted forming a line behind her brother, as Ser Davos moved to stand beside him followed by Bronn. Ser Davos looked much the same as when she'd last seen him, though perhaps more tired. Bronn was the most changed from what she remembered – looking somewhat cleaner with fine clothes.

"King Bran" said Sansa, voice loud and clear across the area "The hospitality of the North is yours"

The formalities observed, Arya rushed from her place at her side wrapping her arms around Bran.

"It's good to see you" she said

"And you" returned Bran, a faint smile crossing his face as she pulled back

"Welcome home Bran" said Sansa, following her sister's lead and pulling her little brother into a hug

"Thank you Sansa" he said

Bran smiled at them, though his eyes moved beyond Sansa "Tyrion, it's good to see you"

Her husband shuffled on the spot "You too, your Grace"

"Call me Bran" he said, staring straight at him "You're my brother by marriage"

Tyrion's face grew tight "As you wish"

An awkward silence fell over them and it took Sansa a moment to realise Bran's group were all staring at Tyrion.

She cleared her throat, drawing their attention "I'm sure you're all exhausted after your journey. I'll have you shown to your rooms and the captain of my guards will show your men where they can make camp. A feast will be held later this evening to celebrate the union between the North and the Six Kingdoms of Westeros"

As if a spell had been broken, the guards and servants sprang into action as Bran's entourage were shown into Winterfell.

Bran nodded at his council who relaxed, Ser Brienne stepping towards Sansa.

"It pleases me greatly to see you again" she said, nodding her head

"You're always welcome here" said Sansa, wrapping her arms around the older woman who quickly returned the gesture "I've missed you"

"Queen Sansa" greeted Ser Davos, coming to her side "Good to see Winterfell looking in better shape"

"Looks better than Kings Landing anyway" said Bronn, sauntering towards Tyrion "Froze your balls off yet?"

"No, I haven't" said Tyrion flatly

The former sellswords face twisted briefly in surprise at the answer "Aye, reckon you've got used to it by now"

"I suppose I have"

Bronn was staring at Tyrion as if he'd never seen him before, and Sansa decided to move things along.

"Speaking of the cold, perhaps we should go inside?"

"Thank the Gods" said Davos, rubbing his hands "I'm getting too old for this bloody cold"

The group started to move across the courtyard, Tyrion turning quietly away from his former friend as he limped towards the castle. Arya and Brienne were following just behind Bran, already engaged in talk about fighting. Sansa fell in beside Bran's wheelchair with Tyrion hovering somewhere on the other side.

"Are you alright, my lord?" asked Podrick

The young man was pushing his King's wheelchair, but his attention was on Tyrion hobbling alongside it.

"I'm quite alright Ser Podrick" he said, smiling faintly at his former squire "Congratulations on your knighthood – it was long overdue"

"I owe it to you and Ser Brienne"

Tyrion shook his head "You owe me nothing"

"Don't forget me, I taught ya plenty too" said Bronn, clapping Pod on the back

"You taught him plenty if he wanted to be a sellsword" said Brienne

"I taught him how to survive and Tyrion taught him how to drink. Thought we'd need to teach him how to use his cock too, but he had that sorted. Remember when you bought him those whores?"

Bronn nudged against Tyrion, but her husband only nodded as Pod's face turned red.

"It's good he didn't learn more from you Bronn" added Brienne "Honour is the foundation of a good knight"

"If you've got too much honour, you aint going to survive – simple as that"

The two descended into bickering and Ser Davos sighed heavily next to her "Imagine that at every council meeting"

"I'd rather not" she said

"It does amuse me" said Bran, his face holding no humour "I'd like to visit the Godswood, if you don't mind"

"This is your home little brother" said Sansa, laying her hand on his shoulder as they came to a stop just outside the great hall

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes "I'll see you later then"

As the group dispersed, Sansa's eyes found Tyrion standing awkwardly to one side and she moved swiftly next to him.

"Come my love" said Sansa, softening her voice "There's time before dinner, will you join me for a game of cyvasse?"

He nodded, but his eyes were miles away as he took her offered arm and they headed inside.

* * *

The snow that had covered Winterfell for so many months was gradually lightening as the faintest whisper of spring breathed through the North. It would likely be many months until spring truly arrived however, and Arya's footsteps crunched lightly on the snow as she wound through the Godswood towards the heart tree.

Bran sat alone in his wheelchair as she approached, though a guard was undoubtedly wandering the trees nearby. His eyes were white as his head tilted back; a sign the three-eyed raven was flying somewhere.

She dropped onto the snowy ground near her brother, patiently waiting for him to return. Arya wasn't sure how long she waited, until Bran's dark brown eyes returned; a slow smile crossing his face.

"Sorry Arya, I didn't realise you were waiting"

"I didn't want to disturb you" she said, shrugging "How's it feel to be back home?"

"The three-eyed raven is stronger in the North. The old Gods hold more power here"

"Yeah, but are you happy to be home?"

Bran smiled but his eyes were vacant "I'm happy to see my family"

Silence lapsed between them and Arya traced a line with her finger in the snow before her. Talking to Bran was difficult these days, but she'd never give up trying. He would always be her brother; no matter what. Sansa often tried to make casual conversation with him, but Arya understood he struggled with that now - as if the things he saw overwhelmed his ability to speak casually. It didn't bother Arya as much; she'd always been blunter than her sister.

"You knew where Tyrion was in the Wolfswood" she stated. It wasn't a question.

"I did"

"You could have told us. He might not have had to suffer any of that"

The accusation hung in the air between them, a flash of regret crossing Bran's usually expressionless face.

"There was nothing I could do. The situation was too far gone" he said "Tyrion is a good man - I regret everything he's suffered"

"He's family - part of our pack"

Bran's mouth twitched upwards "You're a good sister Arya. I know you delayed your plans to find what's west of Westeros to help Sansa"

"Most of our family is dead or gone" she said "I have to protect the ones I can"

"Even you can't save them from themselves. Sansa has been her own worst enemy"

"She's made mistakes, but she's learned from them"

Bran stared at her a moment, before turning to the face in the heart tree "The three-eyed raven's power comes from the old Gods, being North again is a chance to explore it further"

Arya bit back a sigh at the sudden change in topic. Bran might never be the same as he was; but she was glad he was here all the same.

* * *

Dinner was a strange affair. The great hall was filled with the Winterfell household and Bran's entourage, while the head table was comprised of Sansa's family and Bran's key advisors. Seeing how uncomfortable Tyrion had looked all day Sansa had seated him between herself and Arya, with Bran, Davos, Brienne, Bronn and Podrick seated opposite them. As Queen she'd led the toast welcoming them to Winterfell, and the feast had begun in force. At least the sounds of merriment from the rest of the great hall covered the awkward silence of the head table. Part of the problem was Bran's side of the table continuously staring at Tyrion as if they were seeing a ghost.

Bran was hardly easy to make conversation with either; he sat observing them all as if seeing their whole lives at a single glance. Nevertheless, she had to try.

"Bran, I heard you stopped at the Neck on your way here?" she said

"I did" said Bran, his gaze turning to her

"How was it?"

"Good. I spoke to Meera" said Bran "The Reeds are still loyal to you"

Sansa nearly choked on her wine. Of all the things to bring up at dinner, he brings up the whispers of rebellion she'd been trying to keep quiet?

"As they should be, they're sworn to house Stark after all" said Arya, shovelling in a mouthful of food

"They are" said Bran "They won't break faith with you, but they're unlikely to aid you either"

"The North is at peace" said Sansa, locking eyes with her brother "I doubt we would need to call on their aid"

Bran stared right back "If you say so"

The rest of the group suddenly became very interested in their food as silence settled over the table once more. Sansa wanted nothing more than to leave this awkward dinner behind and eat with Tyrion in their chambers. Her husband sat silently next to her, dutifully eating his dinner. His quietness since coming North had unsettled her at first, but she'd come to understand it was part of him now. Looking at her guests, they were as confused by the change in a man who'd once laughed and drank so freely as she had once been. His wine was once again untouched – as Bronn noticed.

"Don't reckon I've ever seen you go this long without a drink" said Bronn, leaning back in his chair

"I lost the taste for it" said Tyrion, pushing the food around on his plate

"You lost it and the onion Knight here found it" said Bronn, gesturing to Davos down the table

Ser Davos leaned forwards to shoot a glare at him "A fact I blame firmly on the Master of Coin"

"Don't blame me cause you can't handle being hand"

"It's not that he can't handle being hand, it's that he can't handle you" said Brienne

"They blame me for everything" said Bronn, leaning across to Tyrion "You should come see my castles sometime – I got two now"

"I'm an exile"

Bronn waved his hand dismissively "Yeah, but it's not a real sentence is it"

"Have you no respect for our King's word?" said Brienne, sighing heavily

"Oh come on, he's his brother by law" said Bronn, turning to Bran "You really mean it?"

All the attention turned to Bran, and Sansa could almost feel Tyrion sinking in his seat beside her at the mention of his sentence. Her own heart sank too – she'd asked for him to be sentenced like that.

The King merely stared at Tyrion "The sentence was harsh"

"It was better than I deserved" said Tyrion, dropping his gaze

"You're a good man – you don't deserve to suffer as you have" said Bran

"Many would disagree" said Tyrion

"I regret sending you North Tyrion, and I'm truly sorry for every injustice you've suffered"

Bran's eyes flickered briefly to hers, a flash of panic going through her. He knew what she'd done to Tyrion.

"It's in the past" said Tyrion squirming in his chair

"The past can't be changed" said Bran, tilting his head as he observed her husband "The future can be"

Sansa froze in her seat, a slither of ice trickling down her back.

"I could pardon you. Casterly Rock still has no lord, it could be restored to you" continued Bran "You could leave the North and your suffering behind. Ser Davos is my hand, but you could still join my council"

At Bran's words Sansa's heart pounded furiously in her chest, a thousand thoughts battling for dominance.

No.

Bran was going to take Tyrion away from her.

She couldn't lose him.

Panic bubbled through her followed by the overwhelming urge to grab hold of her husband; as if he would suddenly disappear from beside her. Bran was offering to restore everything she'd taken from Tyrion. He was going to leave. Why wouldn't he want to escape his abuser?

Nausea rolled through Sansa as her chest grew tight. It had all been for nothing - she'd done her best to make amends, but she was going to lose him anyway.

"Thank you Bran, but I'll have to decline" said Tyrion, adding quietly "...this is my home now"

Hesitant green eyes flicked to her, silently checking his words were true. Sansa's world spun as lightness flooded her body. She let out a breath, her heart still thudding in her chest. Not caring for etiquette, she pressed a firm kiss to Tyrion's head, her hand searching for his and rubbing it under the table. A small smile crossed his face at the gesture, and she returned it with one of her own.

Tyrion returned his gaze to Bran "The sentence you gave was just – and more lenient than I deserved. I do not wish to be pardoned for my crimes"

Bronn scoffed "You weren't the one giving the orders to slaughter Kings Landing. Davos is as guilty as you and he's hand of the King"

"Compared to small council meetings with you lot, banishment up North's looking pretty good" said Davos, drinking heavily from his cup

"What of Casterly Rock?" asked Bran "Your ancestral home"

"Give it away, tear it down - do whatever" said Tyrion shrugging half-heartedly "it's not my problem anymore"

Tyrion was obviously uncomfortable with the attention of the table on him and Sansa gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Arya didn't look at all pleased at the turn the conversation had taken either, frowning at Bran across the table.

"Very well" said Bran, still watching Tyrion "I shall have to find a new lord of Casterly Rock"

Mercifully, Brienne sensed a change of topic was needed "Sansa have you had any luck filling seats in the North?"

The conversation treaded back into safer territory, with Sansa explaining the difficulties of finding new families to inherit such vast lands and Davos expressing similar problems. Tyrion fell quiet beside her as the servants cleared dinner, bringing out a wide spread of desserts. She noticed Arya patting his shoulder and whispering in his ear at one point, but the conversation thankfully moved away from Tyrion's sentence. Nonetheless, her gaze kept wandering to her husband. Why would her brother offer him that? Had he really intended to take Tyrion from her?

"Lord Tyrion, I heard you've got a direwolf?" asked Podrick, smiling at him

"Ah, yes – his name's Lyon"

"What's he like?"

She was grateful to Pod for pulling her husband out of his silence and into a light conversation. Of all the guests, it was Bronn and Podrick who knew Tyrion the best. For some reason her husband was reluctant to engage with his former sellsword, but his face lightened as he chatted to Pod about Lyon.

"I'd rather like to meet Lyon" said Bran

Tyrion tensed beside her, a grimace crossing his face "I won't pretend to understand why Lyon chose to stay with me…but I should make you the same offer that I made Sansa and Arya"

A knot of worry wound through Sansa as she realised where Tyrion was heading.

"I'm not a Stark but you are…and you lost your own direwolf" continued Tyrion, as if each word pained him "If you want Lyon…"

Sansa locked her eyes onto Bran, who continued to stare at her husband. It didn't matter what Tyrion offered or what Bran wanted - she would not allow Lyon to be taken from her husband. It was obvious to everyone how much Tyrion loved his little friend; his offer to Bran was clearly out of some misplaced sense of duty.

Bran's face morphed into a smile "That's kind of you - but Lyon is yours. I will not take him from you, nor would he come with me anyway"

Tyrion slumped in relief next to her "Thank you"

"Lyon's very protective of Tyrion" said Arya; eyeing the King warily "Their bond is stronger than anything I've seen"

"They were both the runts of their respective litters" said Bran

"What exactly do you mean?" demanded Sansa, voice turning icy

Dinner was turning into a disaster. Why wouldn't anyone leave Tyrion alone? First Bran tries to take him away, and now he insults him. She could suffer through Bran's vague answers and lack of emotion, but she would not allow anyone to insult Tyrion ever again. The look of shame on his face as he saw himself in the mirror that morning was still fresh in her mind.

"I meant no offence" said Bran, in the monotone voice that grated on her so much

"It's quite alright. I was always treated as the runt by my family" said Tyrion

"I saw where Lyon came from"

Interest sparked in her husband's eyes "I have wondered about that"

"Born in the Wolfswood. He was the smallest and weakest of his litter. His mother and siblings abandoned him when he couldn't keep up with them. They returned beyond the wall without him and Lyon found you"

"Aww poor Lyon" said Arya

Tyrion's face fell in sympathy with his wolf, and Sansa gently rubbed his back "Don't worry my love - he's very happy here with you"

"That must have hurt him though" said her husband

"This is his home now" said Arya, nudging Tyrion "You've seen the snooty looks he gives Sansa - this is definitely his castle"

The conversation moved on with Arya and Davos discussing the rumours of what lay west of Westeros, as the other guests started conversing amongst themselves. Sansa tried to engage with the people around her. Most of them had been friends to her in the past and she was glad to see them, but her little brother made her uncomfortable – there was no denying it. Aside from that, her mind was still reeling from the sudden possibility of losing Tyrion.

Sansa bit her lip - this was going to be a very long visit.

* * *

Tyrion was relieved when the door to their chambers came into view. Dinner had been a painful affair, and the constant staring of Bran and his council hadn't helped at all. Why couldn't they just ignore him? He was happy enough sitting quietly at Sansa's side. He'd imagined seeing them might be awkward, but he hadn't anticipated how much. Of them all, there was only Podrick he was genuinely happy to see. No matter what, the young man was unfailingly respectful to him – even when he was no longer required to be.

While he didn't know Brienne overly well, there was a certain awkwardness there. His brother had seemed to care a great deal for the woman; and then dumped her to die with his twin sister. How could that not be awkward? Ser Davos was a good man, though Tyrion was somewhat embarrassed to see him. He'd spoken often and loudly of how Daenerys would be a great Queen. He'd done his best to convince Davos and Jon of that fact – which proved to be wrong. His Queen had slaughtered a city and burnt it to the ground after all. The onion Knight had been present for the selection of Bran as King and Tyrion's sentencing then after – seeing him at one of the lowest points in his life.

Bronn was the most awkward. He'd once considered him a friend – until he pointed the crossbow at him.

_'May I speak?'_

_'Why not? Only death will shut you up'_

Now he wasn't speaking and everyone wanted him to.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" asked Tyrion, moving to take his hand from Sansa's and prepare for bed

She'd taken his hand as soon as they left the great hall, holding it tightly as they made their way into their chambers. Sansa didn't answer, but she tightened her grip on him.

Tyrion looked up at his wife, surprised to find her shoulders shaking.

"Sansa, are you alright?" he asked

She dropped her face away from him, nodding her head. It wasn't going to work – she clearly wasn't ok. Tyrion let her keep hold of his good hand, though he moved to stand in front of her; searching for her eyes - only to find tears trickling freely from them down her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked "Are you unwell?"

This was strange. Sansa very rarely cried. Just this morning she'd been comforting him as he pathetically broke down over his twisted body.

"Sansa, please. Talk to me"

The pleading in his voice broke through to her, and she moved her tear-stained face to his gaze.

"Can I hug you?" she asked quietly

"Of course"

Her request puzzled him somewhat but he was hardly going to turn away his distraught wife. Sansa sank to her knees, gently wrapping her arms around him and leaning her head against his. Tyrion tried to reciprocate, winding his good arm around her and lightly rubbing her back.

"I love you" she said, her voice breaking

"Please Sansa, what's troubling you?"

She was quiet for a moment before answering "Bran offered to restore your land and titles – you could have left me"

Tyrion's heart twisted "I don't want to leave you"

"As soon as he said it, I thought I was going to lose you"

"There's nothing left for me there"

Sansa tightened her grip around him, tugging him fiercely against her "You suffered so much because I wanted you here. I took everything from you. I abused you so badly, and then those beasts tortured you – all because I wanted you with me"

"I like being here" said Tyrion, his voice soft "I forgave you for...those things"

"You did sweetheart" said Sansa, a sob building in her throat "but I'll never forgive myself"

"Like Bran said, the past can't be changed"

"It can't – but I'll spend the rest of my life making up for it" said Sansa "I'll never risk losing you again"

"You won't lose me Sansa" said Tyrion, adding nervously "this is home"

"It is" she agreed, turning her head to kiss his cheek "This is home my love – always"

A soft whine sounded as Lyon nudged against the side of him.

"Winterfell is your home too Lyon" said Sansa

He moved his hand from Sansa's back to ruffle the wolf's fur "See Lyon – there's a place for us runts after all"

Sansa seemed in no hurry to let go and Tyrion was happy to let her hold him. It was so rare Sansa allowed him to help her. She always seemed to be the one comforting him – it was nice to return the favour.

* * *

The knife spun through the air, landing dead centre of the target.

"You're really very skilled at that" said Brienne

Arya turned to the lord commander, gesturing for her to take aim at her target. The Knight threw her blade with too much power. The knife flew through the air, clipping the top edge of the target before carrying on past.

"An improvement" noted Arya, passing her another knife

The knife throwing continued for a few rounds before Arya asked the question that had bothered her since last night.

"Is Bran always like that now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know Bran's not like he used to be – that he's something else now" said Arya, swallowing thickly "but he was so cold at dinner last night; especially to Sansa"

The older woman's face softened "I don't think Bran's cold – I think the three-eyed raven is a heavy burden though"

"Why would he offer that to Tyrion?" said Arya, curling her hands into fists "Bran must know it would break Sansa's heart if Tyrion left"

"Just Sansa's heart?" asked Brienne, raising an eyebrow as she retrieved their knives

Arya's shoulders slumped "I don't want him to leave either – he's my brother"

"I wouldn't worry" said Brienne "Lord Tyrion was quick to refuse. Apart from that he hardly spoke to any of us. Is he still unwell?"

She shook her head "Tyrion's been like that ever since Kings Landing – he's not who he used to be"

"I don't know Tyrion particularly well – I've met him a couple of times at most; but Jamie always spoke fondly of his brother. Even I can see how different he is now"

Arya took one of the knives Brienne offered; twisting it in her hand "What happened to him in the Wolfswood...it was really bad. He's recovered a lot since then"

"That's good to hear" said Brienne, lining up her knife with the target "Bronn seemed rather put out that his old friend wouldn't engage with him"

Arya shrugged "I don't know what happened there. People are never simple"

"No, a sword is much easier"

A wicked smile curved across Arya's face "Ready for a rematch, lord commander?"

The older woman smiled "I thought you'd never ask"

* * *

"My lord, it might be better for someone to check your correspondence until the issue is dealt with. There is no need for you to be exposed to such vile words"

Tyrion shook his head "Thank you Maester, but I'm fine. I will not allow them to bother me"

"We will find them" said Sansa, gripping his hand "I promise"

Another day, another letter from Robin and Gawan. Tyrion was fairly sure it was Gawan actually writing them – the hint of madness behind the words was poorly concealed.

I'm sharpening my knife for you little lion. I'll train you properly this time – removing those pesky bits in your breeches will make you much more docile. You'll feel like a whole new man afterwards...except you won't be a man anymore...

The note was short and taunting. Like the other it had arrived bearing no seal or identifying mark, which made it impossible to distinguish from much of his correspondence. He'd been sat in a meeting room with Sansa and Wolkan when he'd opened it. His wife noticing immediately that something was wrong.

"Are you sure Tyrion? One of us can check your letters first if you like" asked Sansa, her blue eyes studying him with concern

"It's quite alright Sansa" he said, forcing a smile "as you said – we're safe here"

"I won't let them hurt you" she promised

The old Maester seemed to have aged several years since reading the note, his chain resting heavily around his neck.

"As you wish my lord. I will continue my research into the possible origins of these letters. I sincerely hope you receive no more of them"

Tyrion nodded, turning back to his work even as Sansa and Wolkan's eyes continued watching him. He swallowed thickly. He was the lord of Winterfell; they couldn't hurt him here. Their words meant nothing to him.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon when Sansa made her way to her brother's chambers. Dinner last night had shaken her badly. So much so, the tears had escaped quickly as soon as her and Tyrion were alone. Guilt had enveloped her for needing his comfort, but having him in her arms had soothed some of her fears - he wasn't going to leave.

After all her weeks of trying to make amends with Tyrion and prove this wasn't his prison, it had warmed her heart to hear him refuse Bran's offer. He'd still seemed a bit uncertain; but he'd said this was home – and to Sansa that meant the world. Even weeks later, the memory of her husband's heart-broken pleading for Jamie to take him home burned clearly in her mind. Never again would she allow him to feel like a guest or prisoner.

A second letter had arrived for Tyrion this morning – its contents more gruesome than the last. As much as he was trying to pretend it didn't bother him, Sansa was certain it did. It terrified her; how could it not scare her husband? Bran was here now, and this time she hoped he might help.

Rapping lightly on the great wooden door to her brother's chambers, Sansa fought the urge to fiddle with her sleeves. Instead she forced her back straight, holding her head high. This was her home and she would not be intimidated by her brother's power.

"Come in Sansa"

She suppressed a shudder as she pushed the door open. Bran was family; not the enemy.

He was sat in his wheelchair near the window, his face thoughtful. She wasn't going to ask how he knew it was her outside the door - part of her didn't want to know.

"Bran" she greeted "Are you satisfied with your chambers?"

"Of course"

"Good" she said "I'm glad to have you home little brother"

A hint of amusement sparked in his eyes "Are you really?"

Sansa didn't bother asking permission as she moved further into the room, pulling a chair out to sit opposite her brother.

"Why wouldn't I be happy to see you?"

"I offered to give Tyrion his home back. I could have taken him away from you"

Sansa's eyes narrowed "This is his home - as he told you"

"Do you love your husband?"

"With all my heart"

Bran smiled, interlocking his fingers.

"I didn't make the offer to hurt you Sansa. Despite what you think, I still love my family"

"You have a funny way of showing it"

His face pulled into a frown "You're angry that I didn't help you find Tyrion. I couldn't; things were too far gone"

"What good is being the three-eyed raven if you can't help your family?"

"I tried to warn you; family, duty, honour. I told Arya when she left Kings Landing you would need reminding"

"Reminding of what?" she said, patience already wearing thin "All you give is cryptic clues"

Bran was frustrating her. He did nothing to help find Tyrion, and as soon as he arrives he tries to steal him away.

"Remind you of who you are" said Bran "I can't see the future, not properly. I get glimpses of things that may or may not happen. I let you take Tyrion because there was a chance he could save you from yourself"

A hundred thoughts swirled through Sansa's mind. It was true. The things she'd done were monstrous; she'd only seen what she was becoming when Tyrion's broken body was brought home. The fear that had run through her at the sight had shattered her walls of ice, revealing her actions for what they were.

"He did save me" she agreed softly

"Tyrion's a good man. He doesn't deserve to suffer anymore"

Sansa straightened in her seat "That's why I came to see you. The ones who hurt him are still out there - in the North somewhere. Can you help us find them?"

"I'm looking at one of them"

She jerked back as though slapped, familiar guilt flooding her.

"I asked you to look after him" continued Bran, dark eyes turning distant "Relax, this will be over soon"

A new wave of horror washed through her, sending ice up her spine. Those were the words she'd spoken to Tyrion…as she raped him.

"I apologised" she stammered "He forgave me"

"I saw glimpses of the future where he didn't"

Her throat grew tight "He didn't forgive me?"

"He was dead before you could apologise" said Bran, staring vacantly at her "Sometimes by Robin and Gawan's hands or sometimes by his own"

Sansa's body fell weak at her brother's words. Could her actions have led Tyrion to such extreme measures that he'd hurt himself? The thought of not getting the chance to apologise and show him her love stabbed at her heart.

Bran blinked as if coming back to himself, shaking his head "Forgive me Sansa, I see too much sometimes. Tyrion did forgive you"

She took a long breath, her voice as cold as winter "I'll protect him no matter what. With or without your help"

Sansa stood to leave, her gown sweeping behind her as she turned away from her brother.

"Wait" he called

Against her better instincts, she looked back at Bran. For a moment his face flashed with uncertainty and she saw the brother she'd lost. It wasn't the three-eyed raven staring back - it was Bran.

"Tyrion's my brother now" he said "If I can find a way to help I will"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak as she swept from the room. Sansa had doubted Bran would help them, but it had been worth a try. She'd come seeking some kind of council, instead she'd had her deepest shame thrown in her face. The thought of never having the chance to apologise to Tyrion twisted at her heart, but the idea of losing him by his own hand was even worse. Her pulse quickened as she strode down the corridor. It didn't matter if Bran wouldn't help; she would protect their family.

* * *

Pod tapped the package against his leg as he wound through the corridors of Winterfell. His throat grew tight recalling his conversation with his King.

"You can leave me Ser Podrick" said Bran, dark eyes observing him

"Yes, your Grace. I'll be outside the door"

"That's not necessary"

"Your Grace, I'm your sworn shield. It's my duty to protect you" Pod had insisted

"Anyone can stand outside my door. Go and find something else to do"

The Kings words had hurt - Pod couldn't deny it. He was honoured to be Bran's sworn shield, but most days he felt quite disposable. Thankfully there were no wars to fight, but his duty mostly consisted of standing outside the Kings chambers - which he rarely left. Brienne was always busy as lord commander, as was Ser Davos. Bronn could be good company, but Pod couldn't forget his duty to Bran and drink with the former sellsword constantly. If Bran didn't need him, it might be nice to enjoy himself for a change.

At least with them coming to Winterfell, he could give lord Tyrion the books he'd tried to send him. It had been shocking to see him so withdrawn yesterday, obviously struggling to move around from his injuries. His former lord had changed drastically since Pod had last seen him. His beard was gone and his hair was far shorter than it usually was – even his face had looked rather gaunt, his old scar bright red once more.

He rounded a corner towards the Queen's chambers when hushed voices drew his attention. Hanging back, Pod noticed Tyrion and Sansa tucked away in a small alcove not far from their rooms.

"...sure there's nothing bothering you?" asked Sansa

"I'm fine Sansa" insisted Tyrion

She deflated "I don't mean to fuss...I'm just worried about you"

Tyrion reached out and grasped her hand "Is this about Bran's offer last night?"

"The thought of losing you terrifies me"

"I may be small but I'm certain you won't lose me"

Pod saw Sansa smile, sinking onto the window ledge as Tyrion stood opposite – her hand in his.

"I really am sorry Tyrion. For asking Bran to sentence you like that...and everything that followed"

"Don't be sad Sansa – I already forgave you for everything"

She brushed her hand through his hair "You're happy here?"

"Very"

"Good" she said "If you're ever not...promise you'll talk to me? Or Arya, or someone"

Tyrion's brow furrowed "Sansa, what's troubling you?"

"It's..." she started, her shoulders slumping "I went to see if Bran could help us find Robin and Gawan. You've seen what Bran's like now. He mentioned...seeing things that could have happened. Like you not forgiving me...dying before I could even..."

She trailed off and Tyrion gently kissed the back of the hand he was holding "At least now we know Bran isn't always right. I'm very much alive and I have forgiven you"

Podrick stood transfixed by the scene. He didn't understand all of what they were talking about, but it was obvious how much they cared for each other and Pod felt a little guilty for hoping Tyrion would come to Kings Landing with them. When he'd refused Bran's offer last night, his heart had plummeted – but it was clear enough Tyrion was happy here.

"I love you" said Sansa, stroking the side of his face "please don't leave me"

"Never"

The Queen leaned forwards and Tyrion met her half way, kissing each other gently. Pod became very aware that he was both lurking and spying. He retreated part of the way down the corridor, hoping to catch Tyrion if he came this way. A few minutes later footsteps echoed down the corridor as their voices grew nearer.

"Sure you don't want to come see Arya with me?"

"No, thank you. I think I'll go to the practice yard for a while"

"Why isn't Lyon with you?"

"He was napping – you know what he's like if you disturb him"

"Are you really ok going on your own? I can take you"

"I won't get lost-"

Tyrion trailed off as they rounded the corner, coming face to face with Podrick.

"Lord Tyrion" he greeted, before remembering who he should have addressed first "Oh, Queen Sansa I.."

"Hello Ser Podrick" she greeted, studying his face "Were you looking for me?"

Pod's face grew red "Oh no, your Grace – I was looking for lord Tyrion"

The lord of Winterfell glanced curiously at him "What can I do for you Ser Podrick?"

"Just Pod is fine – if it please m'lord"

"Very well. Just Tyrion is fine too – since I'm no longer your lord" he said, a faint smile crossing his face

Podrick nodded, hastily shoving out the package he'd carried with him "This is for you. I owe you an apology. When you were a prisoner in Kings Landing I wanted to come see you, but King Bran forbade it. I had no idea where they were keeping you was so bad...or I would have got you out or done something"

Tyrion's eyes widened in surprise as the package was thrust into his arms "What are you...?"

"I wanted to write to you after you were exiled, but it was forbidden. When I heard you'd been hurt in the Wolfswood I tried to send you a letter and some books but the package was intercepted" he said, dropping his head "I'm sorry m'lord"

Both Tyrion and Sansa were staring at him, and Pod felt more awkward by the second.

"What are you apologising for?" asked Tyrion "I was a prisoner – guilty of all crimes"

"Sweetheart, you're not guilty" said Sansa, laying her hands on Tyrion's shoulders

"I am" said Tyrion, gently shaking his head "I made many terrible mistakes"

"You're an honourable man – it wasn't your fault" said Pod, inclining his head "I'm sorry I couldn't help you"

Tyrion's mouth turned upwards "You always were a loyal lad - I have missed you Pod"

"You too, m'lord"

"Tyrion" he corrected, adjusting the package in his hand

The Queen sensed his difficulty holding it and took it from him. She held it while Tyrion tugged the packaging away to see the books he'd brought.

"Thank you Pod" he said, green eyes shining as he looked up at him

The young Knight relaxed somewhat, smiling at his former lord "I'm glad you like them m'lo- Tyrion"

"I can drop these off in our chambers, if you like?" offered Sansa

"If you wouldn't mind" said Tyrion

"I'll leave you in peace" said Pod, nodding his head and turning off down the corridor

He'd only taken a few steps when Tyrion's voice reached him "Wait"

"I'm going the practice yard" he said, shifting awkwardly "If you're not busy, you're welcome to join me"

Podrick turned back, a smile brightening his face "I'd like that very much"

The Queen shot Pod a grateful smile, lightly rubbing her husband's shoulder.

"I'll see you later, my love" she said, turning back towards their chambers

"See you later" said Tyrion, moving stiffly to join Pod "I have to warn you, I'm quite terrible with a sword"

"Ser Brienne says you only get better with practice"

"I'm not sure there's enough practice time in the world. Nevertheless I will continue to try" said Tyrion, limping at his side "I look forward to watching you though"

Pod smiled, slowing his pace to not push Tyrion. Seeing him with Sansa had warmed his heart. Bran had told them Tyrion was badly injured and his mind had often drifted to his former lord these past weeks. He hadn't been happy with Tyrion's sentence, but it was growing more obvious he had found a home here at Winterfell. Thinking of Kings Landing and his role as sworn shield, Pod wasn't sure he had.

* * *

_"You're mine Sansa, always"_

_Ramsay's voice was the only thing she could hear – it would be the last thing she would ever hear._

_"You've not been a good wife. You're supposed to please me"_

_He was lying on top of her, his hands pinning her arms to the bed in a crushing grip. He bit at her shoulder sinking his teeth in before moving his attentions lower - always the same painful treatment. He never gave her any pleasure; only pain._

_Ramsay continued to squeeze her arms; his smirking face right next to her own. Sansa writhed beneath him, but it was useless – he might as well be made of stone._

_"Stop!" she gasped, as he continued biting at her tender flesh_

_"Naughty Sansa" he tutted, crushing himself against her ribs "You don't know your place"_

_He pulled her downwards, thrusting himself inside as a scream tore from her throat. It wasn't supposed to be like this._

_She was a wolf._

_She was going to die being raped by a monster._

_Ramsay thrust in and out of her as her vision blurred. He was pinning her beneath the weight of his body, and she was helpless to escape as he continued thrusting into her as hard as he could._

Sansa shot up in bed, tears racing down her face.

"You're ok" called a voice "Sansa, you're safe"

Her chest heaved as she turned to find Tyrion gripping her right arm in an apparent effort to wake her.

"Tyrion?"

Worried green eyes bore into hers "It's alright Sansa, you're safe"

"Oh, Tyrion" she said, choking back a sob

"I'm here" he said, scooting closer to her "What can I do?"

"I..." she started

Gods, why did she have to dream of Ramsay? He was dead – she'd made sure of it. Still the horrors he'd inflicted on her continued to haunt her. Sansa had always dreamed of a husband who could wrap his strong arms around her – holding her tight and safe. The reality had been a nightmare. She'd been helpless to fight back as Ramsay defiled her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She gazed down at Tyrion, still holding her arm. He'd rolled onto his bad side to wake her and his face was etched with concern. Her heart twisted at the sight, inwardly berating herself for worrying him.

"I'm ok" she said, hesitantly lying back against the soft pillows "It was a dream"

"A bad one" he said

Sansa swallowed thickly, her heart still beating too fast. She'd promised herself she would be more open with Tyrion. It was unfair to expect him to share his troubles when she didn't.

"It was Ramsay" she said eventually "A memory"

"I'm sorry Sansa"

"He was gripping me so tightly...while he raped me" she said, staring at the ceiling overhead "I was trapped under him"

One of Ramsay's favourite things was to rape her while finding another way of hurting her. Biting, cutting – he'd tried whatever he could think of. Just the memory of that monster made her feel dirty. Especially when she was in bed with her husband. She'd told Arya some of what Ramsay did to her, and she'd confided in Brienne when she'd been at Winterfell. As much as she wanted to share with Tyrion, part of her wanted to forget all of that had ever happened.

Tyrion's hand rubbed against her arm and she dared a look at his face. Tenderness shone from his green eyes as he gazed at her "I'm so sorry Sansa"

Sansa's eyes burned with tears again. Her sweet, kind husband. The man she loved – the man she'd raped twice. Familiar guilt twisted through her. Tyrion might have forgiven her, but she would never forgive herself. Bran's reminder of her failings hadn't helped either.

"You're safe" he promised "I won't let anyone hurt you ever again"

"I know you won't" she said, offering him a watery smile

Ramsay's cruel voice whispered into her ear 'You're mine'

She didn't want to be Ramsay's; she wanted to be Tyrion's.

"Do you want me to hold you?" he offered quietly

Sansa's heart stuck in her throat. More than anything she wanted her husband's comfort, but the ghost of Ramsay still held her in his grip.

"Thank you" she said, voice wavering "but would you…I mean...could I maybe hold you instead?"

Tyrion tilted his head curiously, and Sansa ploughed ahead, turning from his gaze "Ramsay would overpower me and grip me and...I know you won't do that...but the memory just..."

She trailed off, shame filling her. Her reasoning was pathetic. Any other night she would gladly accept his offer, but the nightmare was lingering in her mind. She knew Tyrion would never hurt her, but a small part of her needed to be in control. One of the many things that made her feel safe with Tyrion was his size. While he was undoubtedly stronger than her, she liked being able to wrap her arms around him.

It had taken a lot for Tyrion to offer her that comfort and she'd thrown it back in his face. She turned to apologise, when she found him pushing himself closer to her - a soft smile on his face "Of course Sansa - I understand"

She gratefully wrapped her arms around Tyrion tugging him into her as she turned on her side. His broken side was pressed against her as she settled her head next to his.

"Thank you" she murmured in his ear "I love you"

"No problem" he said, lightly rubbing his good hand over her arm as she closed her eyes.

She lay like that for a while, trying to force the dark memories from her mind with Tyrion nestled against her. Sansa was half asleep when she felt the faintest brush against her forehead - the motion sending warmth coursing through her.

"I'll protect you" he whispered

* * *

Bran flew over Winterfell; his childhood home.

At the moment this was the only part of being the three-eyed raven he truly enjoyed. He'd never walk again - but he could fly. For months the old Gods had limited his abilities in the North, allowing him to see only select things. Since arriving here he'd seen far more than he wanted to.

Sweeping low over the battlements, the raven flew around the castle seeking the Queen's chambers. He perched on the window ledge, noting the faint glow of the hearth lighting the room. He couldn't see much, but the meagre light illuminated two figures entwined with each other on the bed.

Bran's heart twisted. He did love his family - he hadn't meant to upset Sansa.

His offer to Tyrion wasn't to hurt her; it was to ease some of his own guilt. The three-eyed raven had known sending Tyrion North would cause him great pain - he just hadn't realised how much. Offering to restore what was taken seemed a small gesture compared to all that had happened.

The raven was about to fly off when the window thudded, green eyes glaring out at him. Bran flew from his perch, as the golden direwolf continued to glare at him. It was better to go. Lyon had somehow sensed his presence and he didn't want the wolf to wake Tyrion and Sansa.

He flew to the highest point of Winterfell, gazing out across the expanse of the North. Being the three-eyed raven was lonely; so was being King. Bran wanted to help his family; but he had a duty too.

He returned to his own broken body, still sitting in the wheelchair where he'd left it. The King sighed, casting a final look out the window. Too many things were already in motion. The path had been set and nothing could change that - however much he wanted to.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

"Thank you for joining me" said Sansa, her footsteps ringing out against the stone floor as she wound down the steps

"Certainly, your Grace" said Brienne, her hand resting on her sword

"You can call me Sansa" she said "I'm not your Queen after all. We're friends are we not?"

The older woman smiled "Of course. I may be the lord commander to King Bran, but my sword is always yours should you need it"

Some of the tension eased out of Sansa. When Bran had become King he'd taken nearly everyone she trusted with him – especially Brienne. The Knight's loyalty to her was unquestioned and Sansa trusted her more than most. The fact Podrick had also gone was another blow. Both had protected her when she had no-one else.

"Have you not been down here since the prisoner arrived?" asked Brienne, as the guards parted to let them through

Sansa shook her head "No. I always meant to, but Tyrion needed me. Arya has been down here a few times. I doubt Grey Worm has anything more that could help us, but it's worth a try"

The increased guard presence was satisfying to see as they drew closer to the dungeons. Sansa had barely spared Grey Worm a thought for weeks. As far as she was concerned he was a dead man waiting for his time to come. Tyrion had only asked her once what was to be done with him and she'd been very clear that he was to die. For some reason her husband had seemed torn on the decision, but he'd eventually nodded. Sansa had no desire to keep secrets from her husband and she'd told him earlier that she intended to speak with the unsullied captain. Fear had swept across his face at the news.

"Grey Worm blames me for killing the two people he cared for the most" he'd said, grasping her hand "He wants to kill me. If he can't get to me, he might settle for hurting you"

"He's under heavy guard – there's no chance of him hurting anyone" she'd told him "Arya's spoken with him, and that's all I intend to do"

"I'll come with you"

Despite his offer, Sansa could see in his eyes he was reluctant to see Grey Worm. There was no chance of her letting Tyrion near him either. The scar that cut across his chest and ribs was a permanent reminder of just how close Grey Worm had come to killing him.

"I don't think that's a good idea. He tried to kill you my love; seeing you could enrage him and then we might not get any information out of him"

Eventually Tyrion had agreed to let her go without him as long as someone went with her for protection. Her husband had immediately suggested Alec, but Sansa had asked Brienne instead. While she trusted Alec as much as she could – her trust in Brienne was unwavering. Aside from that, she valued the older woman's instincts. Before heading down here she'd pulled Brienne aside explaining the basics of what had happened in the Wolfswood. Apparently Bran had already told his council all that he knew - a fact which annoyed Sansa. He knew what was going on as it was happening, but hadn't helped her to find Tyrion?

They paused at the door to the dungeons, Sansa addressing the guard. Today it was a tall middle aged man. The guard bowed his head at their approach.

"Your Grace" he greeted

"Good morning" she said, nodding at him "We're here to speak to Grey Worm"

"Certainly, your Grace. Good luck getting him to talk though. He's been here weeks and he barely moves or speaks"

"We'll make him talk" said Brienne, grasping her sword

The guard raised his eyes at the tall knight "Hope you get something out of him. Sooner he loses his head the better"

"Agreed" said Sansa "I try to forget he's down here"

It was true. Knowing her husband's would be killer was locked away below them had caused her many sleepless nights. She found it easier to pretend he wasn't here at all.

The guard opened the door for them and they made their way into the dimly lit dungeon. It was rarely used, with Grey Worm being the only current occupant.

Sansa led the way past the empty cells, Brienne barely a step behind her. The Queen heard no sounds of life as she arrived outside the prison holding Grey Worm. The unsullied leader was sat on the bed with his feet drawn up. Chains connected his hands and feet to the wall which the man glared at; as if it was responsible for all his problems.

"Grey Worm" she called

The unsullied captain didn't answer, continuing to stare ahead of him. His clothes were ragged and his hair had grown out giving him a wild, unkempt appearance. The stumps of his two missing fingers were visible; a reminder that Lyon could be dangerous to enemies.

"The Queen spoke to you" said Brienne

"Not my Queen" growled Grey Worm

"No, I'm not" said Sansa "Your Queen slaughtered innocents - she was a butcher"

Dark eyes bore into hers "Lannister helped"

"Lord Tyrion supported her" she agreed "Until she became Queen of the ashes - then he did the right thing"

Grey Worm's tone was expressionless, as if he no longer had the energy to converse "She trusted him. He betray her. I seek justice for Queen Daenerys. All I wanted"

"Instead you helped slavers" said Sansa

"I tell you all - I no slaver!"

"They're still out there" continued Sansa "You'll die for what you did to my husband, but Robin and Gawan will be brought to justice first. You spoke with them - is there anywhere they could be hiding?"

The unsullied captain didn't reply, though his eyes studied her. Sansa bit back her frustration, she'd known this was likely a waste of time, but she'd hoped to at least get something from him.

Brienne stepped closer to the door "The unsullied claimed to support Daenerys' fight to end slavery. Your people fought honourably in the long night. Those boys used you, mocking the values you hold dear. Whatever your feelings are about lord Tyrion, surely you want to see justice done to those who made you an accomplice in slavery?"

Grey Worm's nostrils flared "They use me - bring dishonour to this one"

"Is there anything else you know about them? Every moment they're out there, they escape justice. Forty women could have been sold into a cruel life" pressed Brienne

Sansa hung back, observing with rapt attention. Brienne was speaking to him in a way she couldn't - warrior to warrior.

"They lie to me. I already tell Arya Stark everything"

"There's nothing else?" asked Brienne "This is your chance to try and restore your lost honour"

Grey Worm's brow furrowed, shaking his head "No. Only…"

"Only?"

"I ask them once what they do with money. Say they making deal across sea to secure North"

Sansa's mind whirred to life, a slight chill creeping through her. It was entirely possible they'd been referring to selling slaves across the narrow sea, but a darker possibility lurked in her mind. If Robin and Gawan had been plotting a rebellion from the beginning, perhaps the slaves were just a commodity - as was Tyrion? They would have made money for selling slaves and Grey Worm paid them huge amounts of gold to get Tyrion.

Slaves weren't the only thing you could buy across the narrow sea after all.

Sansa pressed her mouth in a tight line, nodding to Brienne. The Knight returned the gesture, turning her attention to Grey Worm.

"Is that all?" she asked

"Yes" he nodded

"Very well" said Sansa

She turned to leave, Brienne at her side

"You love Tyrion?" called Grey Worm halting her departure

Sansa glanced back at him. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were filled with sadness.

"I do" she said firmly "I would do anything for him"

Grey Worm nodded, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes "I love someone once too"

* * *

Podrick heaved in a lungful of air, clasping hands with Alec.

"Good match" said the Winterfell captain, looking equally winded

"I enjoyed it very much" said Pod

"Been a while since I've lost a match" said Alec

"You nearly had me plenty of times" said Pod

The Winterfell air was crisp and clean compared to Kings Landing, and Pod found the cold breeze surprisingly refreshing. Once again King Bran had claimed he had no need of him, leaving him free for the day and more than a little hurt.

He enjoyed serving Bran - as boring as it could be. When Pod gave his word or swore an oath he meant to keep it as well as he could. Although it was becoming increasingly apparent he was disposable to Bran. Anyone could stand outside his door, the King told him.

"Payne, you gonna have a drink?"

Brice's booming voice drew his attention to where the large man sat on a stack of unused crates with Tyrion - Alec already heading over to them. His former lord had invited him to the practice yard yesterday and with nothing better to do Pod had joined him again today. Seeing Tyrion again had pleased him to no end. Of all the people he'd served, he had a soft spot for Tyrion. As Tywin Lannister's son he could've had his pick of better squires from major houses - but stuck with him anyway, treating him far kinder than other lords and ladies ever would.

Pod made his way across the yard, joining the other men at the crates. Brice thrust a skin of water towards him, which he gratefully accepted.

"You're quite the swordsman Pod" said Tyrion, absently petting Lyon who sat beside him

"Ser Brienne taught me well"

The direwolf had stared hard at Pod when he met him earlier, but the wolf had eventually barked as if to say he was acceptable and allowed him to scratch his ears. Tyrion looked rather tired slumped on the crates. Pod had seen him working hard at the practice dummy earlier on, but it was obvious his injuries were still hindering him. Bran hadn't told them specifics of what had happened to Tyrion, but as soon as they got North the rumours were rampant. It was impossible not to hear what had supposedly happened in the Wolfswood and the state the lord of Winterfell had been found in. Pod had dismissed the tales of torture and branding right up until he saw Tyrion. At that point it was obvious he'd suffered horrendously. He'd been limping heavily with his left arm immobilised in a sling - but it was the haunted look that often drifted into his eyes that truly convinced Pod.

"Wouldn't fancy crossing swords with Ser Brienne" said Brice, shaking his head "Watching her fight is terrifying enough"

"She defeated the hound" said Podrick, a hint of pride in his voice "It was amazing to see"

"Arya and Brienne are always interesting to watch" said Alec, gulping at his own skin of water "Hugely different styles but they've both found something that works for them"

"What you thinking about Lannister? You look miles away" said Brice, nudging his lord

Tyrion jolted in surprise, a hint of red colouring his cheeks "Sorry"

It was impossible to not notice how different Tyrion was now compared to when Pod had first met him. Dinner the past two nights had been awkward to say the least. There was more than a little frost in Sansa's voice when she spoke to Bran, and Tyrion barely spoke at all. Neither Sansa nor Arya acted as if it was unusual behaviour but Pod and the rest of the King's group had found it strange. Particularly Bronn. The former sellsword's attempts to spark conversation with Tyrion were met with nothing more than polite responses. More than once Podrick had noticed Tyrion's mind drifting in a way it never used to; as if he was consumed by memories. Sansa seemed particularly attuned to the behaviour, subtly drawing her husband back to the present with practiced ease.

"So Pod, are you still hoping to join the Kings Guard?" asked Tyrion, winding his fingers into Lyon's fur

"I'm not sure" he answered, rubbing the back of his neck "King Bran refused my request, making me his sworn shield instead"

"Gods know why – you're certainly not lacking any skill with a sword" said Alec

"King Bran said it wasn't right for me"

"Reckon you got lucky lad" grunted Brice "I've nothing but respect for the Stark's but Bran is creepy as hell. He's got an old power in him that's for sure. You really want to spend your life guarding him while he does whatever the hell it is he does?"

That was exactly the question that had begun to plague Pod's mind. Knighthood was something he'd always desired; he would be honoured to serve in Brienne's Kings Guard – but was it what he wanted the rest of his life to be? Pod could feel the weight of Tyrion's gaze on him; seeing through him as easily as he'd once seen through the many liars of Kings Landing.

"The Kings Guard is a great honour to be sure" said Alec "but I think it suits some people better than others. Look at Ser Barristan Selmy – his life was his sword"

"Aye, Ser Brienne seems much the same" agreed Brice

"I think Jamie regretted it" said Tyrion quietly, drawing their attention

"Wasn't he one of the youngest to ever join the white cloaks?" asked Brice

"He was, and his sword meant everything to him" nodded Tyrion "Jamie often dreamed of honour and glory as a young man – the Kings Guard seemed the epitome of it. A place for the best of the best. The reality was rather different"

"How different?" asked Pod

Tyrion smiled sadly at him "Jamie served a mad King who burned people for amusement. He then served a King who had no interest in ruling. Robert would make Jamie stand guard at the door while he repeatedly dishonoured our sister with different women. While there was no love lost between Cersei and I, it was difficult to not feel sorry for her in that regard"

Alec nodded "I've heard many tales of King Robert. Most focus on how he won the throne and the man he was back then. Not the King he became"

"He did well winning the throne, and was a decent enough man" agreed Tyrion "Ruling on the other hand was not something he had any interest in, and it made him a poor King"

"If you do join the Kings Guard, at least Bran isn't mad or lazy" said Alec, patting Pod's shoulder

"Are you sure about that?" muttered Brice

"Might I offer you some advice Podrick?" asked Tyrion, green eyes studying him

Pod let out a breath "Please do"

"Don't put on the white cloak until you're certain that's what you want" said Tyrion "The vows you take will follow you for the rest of your life. Jamie killed the mad King because he had wildfire stashed throughout the city and was about to kill thousands"

Brice and Alec's eyes widened at Tyrion.

"I never knew that" said Brice

Tyrion shook his head "Very few did know the truth and even less cared. All that mattered was Jamie broke his oath to protect a mad King who burned people for fun. You know what he was called Pod; Kingslayer, oathbreaker, man without honour. My brother paid a heavy price for doing the right thing – and it followed him everywhere"

"I think Ser Brienne knew" said Pod "she always believed Ser Jamie was a man of honour"

"He had his own sense of honour – twisted as it often was" said Tyrion, offering him a smile "You're a good man Pod. If I was Bran I'd sleep soundly knowing you were at my door, but it's whether you're willing to sacrifice everything else for it"

Alec nodded "A wife, the possibility of children"

"But you get a fancy white cloak" said Brice, grinning at him "and plenty of past Kings Guard are known as legends"

The talk moved on, but Pod's mind stayed firmly on the conversation they'd just had. When he'd originally asked Bran everything had seemed so simple and certain. His time as sworn shield had cast a few doubts on that certainty and Bran's indifference to him since coming North had make him question it even further. Seeing Tyrion with Sansa yesterday had only added to his conflict. Did he want to give up everything for a King who insisted anyone could do his job? He liked Bran – peculiar as he was. Pod would give his life to protect him as duty demanded...but was it wrong to want more? Brienne's devotion to Knighthood and honour had certainly influenced his own, yet Pod no longer had the certainty that was everything he wanted.

The knowing glint in Tyrion's eyes didn't help. The lord of Winterfell seemed to already know the truth Pod was trying to deny.

* * *

"Sellswords?" asked Arya

Sansa nodded as Arya curled her fist around the hilt of needle "If that's true the North could be in big trouble"

The Queen looked exhausted; the pressures of ruling wearing her down.

"It would make sense" sighed Sansa "Gawan is the heir to Deepwood Motte and Robin is the lord of Widows Watch - both already have land, gold and power"

"But not enough to overthrow the Queen. If one of them had married you, taking over the North would be easier" said Arya

"Eventually I would have been disposed of"

"More than likely after producing an heir with Stark blood"

Sansa paled, and Arya inwardly cursed her thoughtless words "Sorry"

"You're right" said Sansa "marrying Tyrion likely ruined their plans. Cley was the only other likely suitor besides them - Tyrion was unexpected"

"Out of your three suitors, you'd have chosen Robin" said Arya

Sansa slumped in her chair at the words, but they both knew it was the truth. Out of the three, Robin had been the most likely. If Tyrion hadn't been brought North, Sansa would have unknowingly wed a monster.

Her older sister had sought her out not long ago, the two retiring to Arya's chambers to talk. Sansa had visited Grey Worm earlier and came to the grim realisation that Robin and Gawan may well be hiring sellswords.

"Look at it this way" said Arya "They didn't sell those women into slavery, so they've lost money on that - and we're on to them now"

"Grey Worm already paid them huge amounts of gold to get Tyrion though, and Robin has all the wealth of his own lands behind him" said Sansa, wringing her hands

"Gawan doesn't. Lord Glover is still in control"

"We still don't know what other houses may have joined them. Tyrion's written to most of them, and only some have replied so far. Both lord Glover and lord Manderly won't support me until the situation with Gawan is resolved"

Arya huffed "Robin and Gawan aren't as clever as they think they are. If any houses do join them it will be the minor ones. If they're hiring sellswords it's because they doubt they'll have enough support from other houses"

"We don't know how many sellswords they could hire though. The North is still recovering from years of war - we are not at full strength"

"Do you really believe Northerners will kneel to a King who stole the throne with sellswords? The North remembers Sansa. They chose you as Queen"

Her sister nodded hesitantly at her words "That's true. Daenerys came to help in the long night and her foreign troops were treated with suspicion"

Arya's mind drifted back to that terrifying night. In some ways she did feel sorry for the dragon Queen who brought her armies North to help them. Sansa was right though - her unsullied and dothraki troops had been treated as outsiders and barely tolerated by the Northerners.

"Did you tell Tyrion your theory on sellswords?"

"I did. He thinks it's likely that's what they're planning, but said they'd need huge amounts of gold to buy enough sellswords and ship them across the narrow sea. The Golden Company was the biggest sellsword group and they were slaughtered in Kings Landing. He thinks if any do come they'll be cheap mercenaries rather than disciplined killers"

Arya's grey eyes flicked over her sister. Her face was scrunched in worry, bags hanging under her blue eyes. It was cruel - that Sansa had to deal with such problems so early into the North's independence. Her sister had sought to escape the North in her youth, yet now she defended it passionately. Time away from home and the cruelty that came with it had changed Sansa in so many ways.

"Ready for another exciting dinner?" asked Arya, throwing a leg over the arm of her chair

Sansa slumped deeper into her own seat "I can't wait for them to leave"

"Bran's our brother"

"Is he?" asked Sansa tiredly

Arya couldn't deny her own irritation at Bran. Sansa had told her about the conversation they'd had and it had annoyed her to no end. They were his family, and Sansa had asked for his help – but Bran's words had been cruel. Arya understood Bran was different now - but he was still Bran. He had to be. Unfortunately Bran wasn't the only source of irritation.

"If Bronn doesn't keep his mouth shut tonight, do I have your permission to close it for him?" asked Arya

Sansa's eyes narrowed "We have to endure him - he is master of coin. Though I quite understand the sentiment"

"What in the seven hells made him think asking Tyrion about the brothels in Essos was appropriate dinner conversation?"

"Gods know" said Sansa, rubbing her temples "Bran did nothing to stop him either"

Arya clenched her jaw, recalling last night's dinner. It was no secret Bronn was trying to drag Tyrion into conversing with him as they used to. The new lord of the Twins seemed unable to accept that Tyrion had changed however. Her brother's newfound quietness was glaringly obvious to anyone who knew him before the destruction of Kings Landing, and for reasons unknown Tyrion appeared to have no interest in his old friend. A fact Bronn refused to accept. Unfortunately, the former sellswords attempts to engage Tyrion were growing cruder and cruder.

The lord of Winterfell had turned crimson as Bronn asked him about the brothels in Essos, stammering out that he wouldn't know as he hadn't used them. Bronn had refused to accept that however, demanding details of Tyrion's supposed conquests. If Brienne and Davos hadn't intervened, Arya would have happily poked a hole in the former sellsword. Her brother had looked utterly humiliated, sinking further into his seat throughout the rest of the dinner.

"He was so embarrassed last night" said Sansa, her face softening "as soon as we got back to our chambers Tyrion swore to me he hadn't been with anyone since Shae. He said he tried to go to a brothel once in Volantis but he just couldn't do it anymore"

"It's history now anyway" said Arya. While she had never met Shae, her sister had told her long ago of Tyrion's relationship with her - and her death.

Sansa nodded "I told him it was all in the past and it wouldn't bother me if he had visited every brothel in Essos - though I'm quite glad he didn't"

"Shae really messed him up"

Her sister's face darkened "He loved her and she betrayed him horribly. It's no wonder he finds it difficult to trust now"

"Or that he gave up whores" agreed Arya

Arya noticed her sister biting her lip, her eyes turning downcast.

"What's wrong?" she asked

"It's just…Tyrion said he stopped bedding Shae after we married in Kings Landing. I never really thought about it before…but if he hasn't been with anyone since…"

"Then you were his first for years" supplied Arya

Sansa's blue eyes were swimming in guilt as she met her gaze "I was his first for years…and I raped him"

"Ah Sansa - Tyrion forgave you"

"I wondered why he was so hesitant to go to bed on our wedding night, but I didn't care" said Sansa, wrapping her arms around herself "This guilt will never go away will it?"

"It won't" said Arya, seeing her sister slump at her words "but you're trying to fix it. I've heard rumours the Queen and the lord of Winterfell were even seen kissing in the corridor yesterday"

The Queen's eyebrows shot up "How did you-?"

"Servants talk Sansa" said Arya, smirking at her sister "I'd say Tyrion's forgiven you if he's kissing you"

"I'm very lucky" said Sansa a faint smile crossing her face "After everything that happened, I'd made peace with the idea that Tyrion would never trust me again. I understood why – I would happily spend the rest of my life giving him all my love even if he never returns it"

"He does trust you Sansa. You've done your best to earn it"

"I don't deserve it" said Sansa, a fond smile crossing her face "but I'll happily accept whatever trust Tyrion is willing to give me. He's in control – whatever he's comfortable with"

Arya smiled at her sister. The growing closeness between Sansa and Tyrion was hard to miss, and it pleased her to no end. They were exactly what the other needed. Tyrion needed Sansa's caring affections and reassurances as much as Sansa needed a husband she could confide in and lean on for support.

* * *

It was the third day of Bran's visit and after another awkward dinner, Sansa had suggested they all retire to another room to enjoy each other's company - or at least pretend to.

Since her visit to Bran yesterday she could barely stomach the sight of her brother and the empty expression on his face as he watched them. As pleased as she was to see Brienne, Pod and even Davos she could do without Bran and Bronn. The group had settled into a range of comfy chairs spread out around the hearth, with ale, wine and water available for all of them. She was doing what was expected of her as Queen in the North, but she'd much rather be alone with Tyrion.

A third letter had arrived today for Tyrion with more taunting words; describing in detail how her husband would be punished for his 'disobedience' and escaping his captors. It sickened Sansa to her stomach, but Tyrion insisted it didn't bother him. Her husband was determined to carry on as though he'd never read the letters and Sansa had no idea how to help him. Asking him if he wanted to talk about it was met with polite refusal, and she found herself at a loss.

Looking to her right she saw her husband absently tapping his fingers on the edge of the chaise as he sat beside her. Arya had claimed a chair to herself not far from them as had Brienne and Davos, leaving Pod and Bronn on the other chaise lounge opposite them. Bran was in his wheelchair near the fire, his dark eyes drifting around the room.

"Lyon's very sweet" said Brienne in a valiant attempt to start a conversation

"He rather enjoys the attention" agreed Tyrion, his eyes wandering to his little friend now napping in the corner

The direwolf had appeared not long after dinner, finding his way from their chambers and into the current room without assistance. Lyon had darted straight to Tyrion, nudging against him and licking at his face. For Sansa it was rather a worrying sign. The wolf was always affectionate to Tyrion, but for him to seek out his master was enough to concern Sansa. If Tyrion was distressed about anything, Lyon always knew - no matter how well her husband tried to hide it.

At least the direwolf had distracted them all for a time. After confirming Tyrion was alright, Lyon had paraded around the circle of guests soaking up as much attention as possible. Notably, he'd avoided Bronn when the former sellsword reached down to pet him and glared at Bran before ignoring him entirely. All in all, Sansa had never felt closer to the wolf. When fully satisfied with the attention he'd received from Pod, Brienne and Davos, Lyon had wandered to the corner for a nap - most likely to prepare for more ear rubs later.

"Have you heard from Jon at all?" asked Davos

Arya shook her head "No. I write to him a lot, but he must be beyond the wall still"

The older knight sighed "I've written to him a couple of times too and had no response. Hope he's alright"

"Jon's fine" said Bran, staring at the fire "Happier beyond the wall than he would have been in Kings Landing"

"That's good to know" said Ser Davos, emptying his cup of wine "Jon's a good man"

Bronn had been unusually quiet since dinner, where he'd once again spent his time making bawdy jokes and asking Tyrion different things. Her husband had a lords manners and was perfectly polite to him, but there was no warmth there. Tyrion hardly spoke at all unless he was directly asked something and Sansa hated seeing him so withdrawn. While he was a lot more open around her and Arya than when he first came to Winterfell, the arrival of their guests seemed to have him on edge. The only person she'd seen him really speak with was Podrick.

Davos and Arya were chatting idly about Bravos, with Brienne and Pod joining in on occasion. Sansa's eyes wandered over her brother, his gaze lost in the flames as if there was no-one else here with him. It was when she landed on Bronn that unease curled through her. The new lord of the Twins was staring directly at Tyrion – his mouth pressed in a hard line.

"Oi, Tyrion" he called a moment later, sending Sansa's blood cold

All conversation ceased, attention moving to Bronn and Tyrion.

Sansa felt her husband tense beside her, answering softly "Yes?"

"They cut your tongue out in the Wolfswood?"

Tyrion flinched "No, they didn't"

"Oh, so you can speak?"

"I can" he said, shifting uneasily

"Then why don't ya?"

"I've nothing of interest to say"

Bronn snorted "Never used to stop ya"

"You thought only death would shut me up" said Tyrion, dropping his gaze "turns out you were wrong"

Sansa's stomach churned uncomfortably. She wasn't entirely sure what they were referring to, but Bronn had no right to bring up the Wolfswood to Tyrion.

Bronn leaned forward in his chair "What – ya can't say anything to your old friend?"

"If I've offended you somehow, I apologise"

Tyrion bowed his head slightly, looking anywhere but at their guests. Bronn looked more annoyed than before, clenching his fists as he stared at Tyrion.

"What the hell happened to ya? Wolf got your tongue?"

"Enough of that" said Davos, shooting a glare at the former sellsword "We're guests here"

Sansa thought that would be the end of it, but Bronn refused to take the hint – a smirk crossing his face as he leaned forward. A cold realisation fell over Sansa. Bronn's attempts to engage Tyrion the past few days had all failed. Running out of patience, he'd apparently decided to provoke a reaction from her husband. Sansa saw rather quickly where this was about to go and it tore at her heart. As much as she wanted to end the conversation and protect Tyrion, doing so would cause him to lose face and likely damage his fragile self-confidence. Glancing at Arya, she saw the same conflict mirrored in her sister's eyes.

The Queen brushed her hand against Tyrion's leg, a gentle reminder she was here for him before turning a frosty gaze to Bronn. For now she would hold her tongue, but if things went too far she wouldn't hesitate to defend her husband.

"Guess the wolves did take your tongue" said Bronn "Never thought you'd lose your balls to a woman – but I should have known. Shae had you wrapped around her little finger too"

"Enough" said Tyrion, eyes narrowing

Bronn leaned back, shaking his head "Look at ya, sat there like a perfect little lap dog. I always knew you wanted to fuck the Stark girl, didn't realise you were desperate enough turn on your friends"

"Do not disrespect my wife" said Tyrion, voice turning deadly "and we were never friends"

Despite her growing fury at Bronn, Sansa's heart skipped a beat at Tyrion's words. While she regularly claimed him as her husband and called him as such, she couldn't recall Tyrion ever claiming her as his wife. The fact he'd called her as such so fiercely and publicly thrilled her.

"Of course we're friends" said Bronn

"Really? Do you threaten all your friends with a crossbow or just me and Jamie?" said Tyrion, a sardonic smile twisting his face

Bronn huffed "That was business and you know it"

"Cersei's business"

Ice slithered down Sansa's spine at the dead Queen's name "What was Cersei's business?"

The new lord of the Twins looked decidedly more uncomfortable than he had a few moments before, shifting in his seat "It's in the past. Not important"

"It was very important to you at the time" said Tyrion "Cersei offered you Riverrun if you killed Jamie and I, didn't she?"

"Aye, but you're still here so I obviously didn't do it"

"Ah, yes. Very friendly of you – to offer us a chance to make you a better offer" said Tyrion, voice rising

"Which I took" said Bronn, spreading his hands "and here we all are. I have two castles now – your brother's debt is paid in full. No reason we can't be friends; I aint a sellsword no more"

Sansa could feel the anger rolling off her husband, his face tight with pain as he stared at Bronn "Yes, it all worked out rather well for you. You got your castles, and I have a dead brother"

"It aint my fault your brother got himself killed" said Bronn, shrugging "I liked Jamie"

"You don't care that he'd dead though, do you? No-one else cares but me!" snapped Tyrion "Jamie and I were just bags of gold to you – to everyone. Tossed aside when we served our purpose"

Whatever reaction Bronn had hoped to evoke from Tyrion, it clearly wasn't this. The former sellsword had gone from goading her husband, to looking desperately around the room for help. Sansa's heart lurched at the pain spread across Tyrion's face.

"That aint true" tried Bronn

"Yes it is" snapped Tyrion, green eyes blazing "You took what you wanted from me without a second thought – and then left when it was convenient. Why won't anyone leave me alone?"

"I'm not-"

"Everyone wanted me to go away and stop talking – then when I do, it's still not good enough. What do you want from me this time? Here to extort another castle from me? Or are you just here to hit me again?"

"I don't want nothing from ya" said Bronn raising his hands "Besides if I was after a castle I'd be extorting your wife not you"

While Sansa suspected it was meant in jest, it was clearly the wrong thing to say.

"Don't ever threaten Sansa" said Tyrion, voice turning icy

At his words, a low growl echoed around the chamber. A golden streak shot past the chaise where they were sat, launching towards Bronn. Lyon landed on the former sellsword with a thump, knocking him back into the chaise as he bared his teeth.

Bronn flailed, his hand reaching to a knife in his belt, but it was hopeless. Lordship had clearly dulled some of Bronn's reflexes. The direwolf would rip his throat out long before Bronn could use the knife. Davos and Brienne were watching the scene with growing horror, but Sansa's gaze was firmly on her husband. Anger rolled off him in waves, but there a hint of fear hiding in his face. Bronn's mocking threat to Sansa had clearly rattled her husband. His green eyes were locked onto his former friend as Lyon growled in his face.

"I weren't threatening no-one" spluttered Bronn "Call your beast off"

"You can threaten me, mock me – I don't care" said Tyrion "but if you threaten Sansa or Arya, I will make sure you regret it"

"Alright! I swear I didn't mean it" said Bronn, eyeing the wolf's jaws inches from his throat

Tyrion held his gaze a moment longer before slumping next to her. The anger drained from him as suddenly as it came, her husband sinking into his seat beside her. Lyon settled down as well, bouncing off the former sellsword and padding over to his master. Sansa's restraint dissolved in an instant and she wrapped her arm around her husband drawing him against her. He sat stiffly, his face turned downwards. Already she could see his anger melting into embarrassment.

Bran's face was expressionless as he watched the scene; doing and saying nothing as usual. Davos and Brienne were both glaring at Bronn while Podrick was watching Tyrion worriedly. Sansa pulled her gaze from Tyrion just in time to see a flash of steel cut through the air. The knife thudded into the chaise barely an inch from Bronn's neck.

"In case it isn't clear" said Arya, her eyes unforgiving "If you so much as insult Tyrion again I'll kill you myself"

* * *

Tyrion felt utterly ashamed as Sansa and Arya marched him back through Winterfell. He hadn't meant to lose his temper with Bronn - since he arrived he'd tried to ignore the master of coin. Why couldn't Bronn just leave him alone?

The group had quickly dispersed after Arya threw the knife, exchanging a few meaningless pleasantries before heading off. Sansa and Arya had quickly closed in on him, tugging him from the chaise and marching him through Winterfell, with Lyon sauntering behind.

"I'm so sor-" he started, as they headed up the stairs towards the Queen's chambers

"Don't" said Arya, her face grim

Tyrion's stomach lurched as the door came into sight. He'd never meant to embarrass Sansa, yet that was exactly what he'd done. She couldn't even look at him. The dark voice of his insecurities grew louder as they steered him towards the chaise, pushing him onto the seat and standing over him. This was it; they'd finally had enough of him.

He kept his gaze on the floor, waiting for them to pass judgement. His good hand began fiddling with the sling holding his left arm in place as the silence stretched on. Lyon didn't seem particularly concerned, trotting off to his bowl of water and another nap.

A slender hand closed around his a moment later, tugging it gently from the damaged limb. Tyrion risked a glance up to see Sansa's blue eyes gazing at him. Her face held none of the disgust or disappointment he'd feared - only tenderness.

"Tyrion, I'm so sorry" she said, crouching in front of him

Arya's face was grim as she nodded "We had no idea Bronn had threatened you before – or hit you"

"I never would have allowed him North if I'd known" said Sansa

"Don't worry; he won't be threatening you again"

"I'll have him banished from the North. I don't care whether he's Bran's master of coin – he won't be near you"

It took longer than it should have for Sansa and Arya's words to sink in, but when they did a lump formed in Tyrion's throat.

"There's no need for that" he said shaking his head "it was my fault. He's your guest and my behaviour was entirely inappropriate – I'm sorry"

"Don't you dare apologise" said Arya, crossing her arms "As far as I'm concerned Bronn deserved far more than that"

"Exactly" said Sansa, squeezing his hand "If you hadn't spoken up for yourself, I would have – and things would have been much less pleasant for Bronn"

Tyrion looked between Sansa and Arya. Both their faces were etched in concern, no sign at all they were angry with him. The evidence was in front of him, but a fearful part of him had to be sure.

"You're not upset with me?"

"Of course we're not" said Sansa, as Arya nodded "I promise"

The tension drained out of Tyrion at the sincerity in their eyes, leaving him feeling rather foolish for doubting them in the first place. Time and again they'd told him he wouldn't be thrown out if he did something wrong, but the doubt continued to plague him anyway.

'The next time you fail me, will be the last time you fail me' whispered the Queen of the ashes

Daenerys had turned on him after too many mistakes; he didn't want to fail anyone again. The chaise groaned as Sansa and Arya dropped onto it either side of him. The Queen wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in to kiss his cheek.

"What actually happened when Bronn threatened you?" asked Arya, lounging against the arm of the chaise

"Cersei sent him to make sure Jamie and I didn't leave the North alive" said Tyrion, dropping his gaze "He was there on Cersei's orders, but he thought Daenerys had better odds of winning than Cersei"

"If Cersei was dead she couldn't pay up" guessed Sansa, rubbing the top of his arm "He wanted a deal from you"

"Jamie was never the swordsman he used to be after losing his hand, and I would be no match for Bronn. He threatened to kill us with a crossbow unless we improved on Cersei's offer. I offered him Highgarden"

Arya nodded, her grey eyes dangerous as she soaked in the information "Bronn hit you?"

"I tried to talk my way out of it, but he hit me to shut me up" said Tyrion, bitterness colouring his tone "Rather ironic now he wants to talk to me"

Arya's face grew tight as Sansa tightened her arms around him. Some part of him was embarrassed by their attention. He wasn't a child – they shouldn't need to treat him with such gentleness. Yet his soul needed it desperately.

"Bronn will be gone by morning" promised Sansa

Tyrion shook his head "Thank you – but there really is no need. Bronn is part of your brother's council. I'll apologise tomorrow and we can move on from it"

"You've nothing to apologise for" said Arya, mouth turning down

"It'll be easier for everyone if we move on from this. Bronn is master of coin – maintaining a good relationship with him is important" said Tyrion

"Not as important as you" said Sansa

Arya's grey eyes studied him "I never actually met Bronn before he came here, but I'd heard you were close friends"

"I once thought we were" said Tyrion "but it wasn't real. His loyalty was to my gold rather than me; I think I always knew that on some level. It just never bothered me before now"

"Until he threatened you and Jamie?"

"Partly" agreed Tyrion, adding quietly "but mostly because I know what it's like to be truly cared for now. You've both shown me how much I didn't know was missing"

Tyrion dropped his head awkwardly as he finished; it was true though. He had no gold, land or powerful family name to offer them anymore. Whatever worth he'd once held had been stripped away, leaving just him - and for some reason Sansa and Arya loved him. They gave him so much without expecting anything in return, and to Tyrion it was a foreign concept. His family had taught him long ago that everyone wanted something. Nothing was free; not even love.

"We'll always take care of you" said Sansa, kissing the top of his head "You've still much to learn my love"

Arya nodded, a small smile on her face "You're part of our pack big brother. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives"

Warmth spread through Tyrion at their words. Never would he have imagined finding a place with the wolves; but he had - and it meant more to him than anything ever had.

"Are you sure you don't want us to banish Bronn?" asked Sansa

"I'm quite sure. Unity between the two kingdoms is important, particularly with Bronn as the new lord of the Twins. He is the closest lord to the border between the North and the six kingdoms"

Neither of them looked pleased about it, but Sansa eventually nodded realising the truth in his words.

"Alright" she conceded "Bronn gets one more chance – but if he ever dares to speak to you like that again he'll be banished"

"Fine" huffed Arya, disappointment in her eyes "but if you change your mind I can make his death look like an accident"

"I think Lyon already scared him" said Sansa "Bronn's reflexes aren't what they used to be apparently"

"Who knew Lyon could be so terrifying?" said Tyrion, eyeing his direwolf

Lyon was currently lying on his back in the middle of the bed, his paws in the air as he napped. Seeing him now to when he was at Bronn's throat was like seeing two completely different wolves.

Arya snorted "No-one rushed to save Bronn"

"Davos looked quite excited" mused Sansa

The three lapsed into a light-hearted discussion of Bran's council and how Ser Davos seemed to drink much more heavily these days. Some of his embarrassment faded as they spoke, enjoying the easy familiarity between them.

"Guess I'll leave you two alone" said Arya some time later, standing from the chaise and stretching upwards

Sansa nodded "I'll meet you in the morning"

"Good night" said Tyrion, offering her a smile

Arya smirked at him, reaching over to flick his head "Anyone threatens you again - tell me. It's been a long time since I poked a hole in someone"

"You're rather terrifying sometimes" he said

"Only sometimes?" she called, ghosting across the room towards the door

When they were alone, Sansa tilted Tyrion's face up to meet hers.

"Are you really ok?"

"I'm fine" he promised "I'm still sorry for embarrassing you"

"You've never embarrassed me" she said, brushing her thumb over his cheek "I just need you to know – if you ever want to talk about Jamie...or what happened in Kings Landing I'm here for you"

"It's in the past" he said, lowering his eyes "Everything's so different now"

"It is" she agreed "but it doesn't change what's already happened. You tried to get me to talk about my family plenty of times in Kings Landing and I always refused – even though it was what I really needed"

"That was different Sansa. You were a child being held prisoner; far from your home and family"

"The situation was awful, but you always tried to help" she said "I've had time to work through the loss of my family – and I'm very lucky to still have Arya, Jon and Bran alive. You lost everything so suddenly my love"

"Not everything" he said quietly "I have you and Arya"

"You do - always" she promised, leaning her head against his "You have a new family, but you don't have to forget everything about your past. When I brought you here I never even considered you might be mourning your brother or everything else that happened. I'm here for you Tyrion – whenever you want to talk about it"

"Thank you" he said, warmth igniting in his chest

Sansa's words were true; he did mourn Jamie. As he did Varys and even Daenerys to some extent. He'd lost everything so suddenly, before being thrust into a new life in the North. Feeling Sansa's warmth against him as they sat on the chaise, Tyrion thought he'd gained a lot too.

* * *

Bronn wasn't in a good mood as he made his way through Winterfell in search of breakfast. He could already imagine how insufferable Davos and Brienne were going to be about last night. Even Pod had been glaring at him as they went their separate ways.

The lord of the Twins pushed his way past the many servants scuttling about the castle as he headed into the great hall. The head table was already set out with a range of food; Davos and Brienne already eating. To his surprise he saw Tyrion sat with them – Arya at his side. Bronn slowed his walk as he approached the table. The Starks didn't usually join them for breakfast.

"Morning" greeted Ser Davos, eyeing him warily as Bronn dropped into the seat beside him

Brienne and Arya were already talking about something or other, though both shot him the same warning glare.

"Ser Bronn" said Tyrion, fiddling with his fork

His old friend looked completely unsure of what to say – and it irritated him. Tyrion had never been lost for words in Kings Landing. No matter what anyone said to him, he'd never let it bother him – but the man sat opposite him was like a stranger.

"Lord Tyrion" returned Bronn, impaling a piece of sausage on his own fork

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the direwolf lurking, green eyes glaring at him like prey. Damned wolf, he thought. Things had been going badly enough last night before the direwolf jumped on him. To his annoyance, Bronn had found his reflexes too slow in reaching his knife. The creature would have had his throat long before he could have stopped it – he was getting old.

"I wish to apologise for last night" said Tyrion, his eyes looking anywhere but Bronn "You're a guest of the Queen and I should not have spoken to you as I did – or allowed Lyon to threaten you"

Bronn considered his friend. If he wasn't a golden haired dwarf with a scarred face, Bronn would barely recognise him. The cutting sarcasm and Lannister arrogance was all gone; he looked more like a beaten dog these days than a proud lion.

He smiled at Tyrion anyway, waving his hand dismissively "No harm done, eh?"

"Lyon's very protective of Tyrion" said Arya, eyes moving from Bronn to the knife next to her plate and back again "I'm sure you understand"

_'He aint the only one'_ thought Bronn, recalling the knife that had flew past him last night. The younger Stark was as dangerous as the damned wolf. Even the Queen had stared at him like prey.

"I understand alright" said Bronn lifting his chin, a smirk curling over his face "reckon the little wolf just wanted to say hello"

The lord of Winterfell forced a smile, returning to pushing his food around the plate. Bronn could feel Davos and Brienne's gazes burning into him, but he focused on his own breakfast. Gods he hated the North. The weather was shit and the people were bloody miserable.

"So where's your Queen?" he asked, between mouthfuls of food

"Something came up that required her attention" said Arya, her eyes flicking worriedly to Tyrion

"Anything interesting?" asked Bronn

"No, it isn't" said Arya, her face tightening

"Plenty to organise for the deal getting signed the day after next" said Ser Davos

Arya nodded "Some of the Northern lords and ladies are arriving tomorrow"

"It'll be strange to see Winterfell so busy again" said Brienne

The three carried on chatting about the work going on in the North and Kings Landing. Tyrion continued staring at nothing, his mind clearly miles away. He'd heard plenty of tales about what had supposedly happened in the Wolfswood, but Bronn wasn't thoughtless enough to ask Tyrion for specifics. As far as he could tell a couple of lords had set up a slavery business and kidnapped Tyrion. He knew Grey Worm had somehow gotten involved and was in the dungeon, awaiting execution. If Bronn had been in charge all of those cockless bastards would have been killed for what they did in Kings Landing - not sent off with gold and ships.

The Starks were putting on a show for them, pretending everything in the North was fine. It obviously wasn't - Bronn had heard there were whispers of rebellion in the North, but there was clearly something else going on too. Arya was chatting with Davos and Brienne, but her attention was on Tyrion. Over the past few days he'd noticed both the Stark girls continuously checking on him; as if expecting something to be bothering him.

He didn't like it. There was far more going on than he knew about, but everyone was too busy pretending to care about this trade deal.

"Eh Tyrion, you wanna grab a drink later?" asked Bronn as more talk of deals and negotiations assaulted his ears

Immediately the rest of the groups' eyes fell on him.

The lord of Winterfell shifted uncomfortably "Thank you, but I don't think so"

"Come on, we can drag Pod along" said Bronn "Get away from all this politics and shit"

"That's kind of you, but I don't drink anymore and…there are things I really should be doing"

It was a weak excuse, but Bronn wasn't going to provoke him again. It was obvious enough Tyrion didn't want to go.

Bronn forced a smile "Another time, eh?"

Tyrion nodded, returning to his empty staring. The direwolf had been watching him eat, but now padded over to his master nudging his leg with a soft whine.

There was something else going on, Bronn decided. Annoyance flickered through him - the man sat before him was hardly Tyrion Lannister anymore. Whatever he'd been through since coming North had damaged him beyond repair.

* * *

"Can you move your fingers my lord?"

Sansa watched her husband's face twitch in discomfort as he followed the instruction. The last two fingers on his left hand didn't curl in as easily as the rest, but they did bend - however stiffly.

They'd awoken that morning to their usual pile of correspondence; this time with two letters for Tyrion from his tormentors. Sansa would never understand how anyone could be so cruel. With each letter her husband grew more distant, though he continued to deny their threats bothered him. Todays had not only detailed their plans for hurting Tyrion, but their plans for hurting her and Arya as well.

He'd gone with Arya to breakfast with their guests and apologised to Bronn. To Sansa there was nothing he had to apologise for, but Tyrion was insistent and she could see his point about maintaining good relations. She'd had no interest in seeing Bronn after last night, and had instead met with Alec to discuss the letters and any progress in the hunt for Robin and Gawan. To her continued disappointment there was no progress.

"Here" said Wolkan, holding out a stick "Could you try to close your hand around that my lord?"

Tyrion's mouth pressed into a tight line as he slowly curled his hand around the stick. The appendage trembled with the effort but he eventually managed a loose grip. Wolkan let go of the stick and Tyrion held it for a few seconds before it clattered to the floor. Her husband clutched his hand, face tight with pain.

"Are you ok?" she asked worriedly, leaning closer to him on the exam table

"Cramp" he muttered, screwing his eyes shut

The Maester reached across, taking hold of the hand and examining it. She rubbed her hand over her husband's back; waiting for the old man's judgement. After weeks of resting his damaged arm and wearing the tight splint around his hand, today was the day they would see if it had worked. Sansa had met her husband after breakfast, accompanying him to the Maester's room. It was no secret he was nervous of the outcome; but they'd done everything possible to fix the damage.

"Hmm" mused Wolkan, prodding the hand "I think the bones have healed as well as could be expected my lord. Is it paining you at all?"

"It's stiff and tight" said Tyrion, grimacing at his hand

"Understandable. After so many weeks immobilised there will be some weakness and stiffness for a while I'm afraid. Your wrist and fingers have healed quite well. The priority now is rebuilding your strength in that limb"

"What can we do about that?" asked Sansa, as Tyrion pulled his damaged hand back

The old Maester sat back on his stool, scratching his beard "I would recommend stretching your hand and fingers each day, gradually working it into your everyday use. It isn't your dominant hand, but you may wish to find some kind of activity that involves using it. Continued use and stretching should help to build strength in it"

Sansa nodded, smiling at her husband "I'll help you. You'll get your strength back in no time"

Tyrion returned her smile half-heartedly, his gaze turning to Wolkan "Thank you Maester. Your assistance and support these past weeks has been greatly appreciated"

"You're more than welcome my lord" said Wolkan, bowing his head "It is good to see you recovering"

"Happy to get your arm out of that sling?" asked Sansa

"Yes, it was rather irritating" he agreed

"You've healed much better than I expected, lord Tyrion" said Wolkan, chain clanking as he rose from his chair to tidy away his supplies "Even your stamina is much improved from last week"

Sansa had noticed that too. When her husband had first returned to whatever he did in the training yard, she'd been terrified of him overdoing it. Each time he returned to their chambers exhaustion hung heavily over him and he was noticeably stiffer the next day. However, as the days wore on she'd noticed a definite improvement in Tyrion. His limp wasn't as pronounced and as Wolkan pointed out he didn't tire as easily. The visible benefits had quickly won her over, dispelling some of her worry over Tyrion.

Much to her surprise he hadn't yet used his new sword, though she'd seen him admiring it in their room several times. When she'd asked him about it, Tyrion had said it wouldn't be right to use a real sword until he'd regained his strength with a practice sword. She suspected the issue was more one of confidence than physical ability, but she hoped with his left arm back in use Tyrion would start to regain his lost confidence.

Glancing down at her husband, her stomach twisted at the distant look on his face. As much as he was healing she knew bringing Robin and Gawan to justice would give him the greatest relief. The taunting letters were continuously plaguing his mind; that much was obvious.

* * *

The face in the heart tree might be scary to some people, but to the three-eyed raven it was like seeing the face of an old friend. The King brushed his fingers over the rough bark of the tree, a thousand images rushing through his mind.

The past, the present and occasionally the future danced before him. The past was set, the present happening around him – only the future could be changed. The words he'd spoken to Sansa were true. He had seen glimpses of a future where Tyrion Lannister was never taken to the Wolfswood. The lord of Winterfell was already dead – his broken body lying at the bottom of the highest tower.

Bran sighed. He'd only ever seen that possibility once, and mercifully it had never come to pass. Since coming to Winterfell Bran could see things had changed; Sansa had changed. He'd offered Tyrion a way out of the North, but he'd refused claiming this was his home. Hurting Sansa was never Bran's intent, but he had to be sure. The three-eyed raven knew everyone was where they should be, that things had happened as they were meant to. Bran Stark felt guilty. Watching Tyrion suffer in the Wolfswood was awful. While he still wasn't recovered, he was far better than Bran had seen through the ravens eyes.

Loud footsteps crunched through the snow, drawing Bran's attention. The master of coin ambled through the trees, his face lighting in surprise as he spied Bran. The three-eyed raven smiled. Bronn wasn't surprised to see him, nor had he came across him by accident.

"Your Grace" greeted Bronn, giving an exaggerated bow as he approached

"Ser Bronn"

"Fancy some company? Or are ya talking to the trees?"

"I think they've said enough for today" said Bran, folding his hands in his lap

Gruff, unpredictable and completely lacking in etiquette – Bran found he enjoyed the former sellswords company. As much as he valued Davos' loyalty and Brienne's honour, he often found Bronn the most interesting companion.

"Are you enjoying our trip North?" he asked

"Sure" said Bronn, dropping onto the ground and leaning back against a fallen log "reckon they're a bit serious up here for me"

Bran nodded "My sisters don't appreciate your humour"

"Exactly. All they wanna do is work"

"Lord Tyrion wouldn't have a drink with you"

The older man raised an eyebrow at Bran's knowledge "That aint lord Tyrion"

"Isn't it?"

"Dunno what the wolves have done to him, but he aint like he used to be"

Ah, so that was what Bronn wanted – to know what had happened to Tyrion. He'd told his council the basics of what had happened, but not the specifics.

"It must hurt, to see your friend so different" said Bran. He knew all about that – Meera had looked at him like a stranger too.

"Didn't ya hear him last night? We were never friends"

"Is that so?" he asked, a humourless smile crossing his face "You want Tyrion to be as he was; he'll never be that man again"

"Don't see why not"

"You saw Sansa in Kings Landing. Is she the same girl she once was?"

Bronn snorted "Gods no. Surprised I didn't get frost bite from the way she glared at me last night"

"My sister suffered greatly" said Bran, turning to the tree "She married a monster here; who abused her horrifically. After everything she suffered, Sansa changed"

The lord of the Twins sighed, rubbing at his face "The rumours about what happened to Tyrion are true, aint they?"

Bran said nothing. It wasn't his place to tell Bronn the details of Tyrion's suffering; though his silence spoke volumes.

"The bastards are still out there"

"They are" said Bran "and they continue to torment Tyrion"

"You gonna tell your sisters where?"

Bran's face pressed into a grim line "I can't. The Old Gods only allow me to see so much. The North will rise or fall by Sansa's hand"

"What about Tyrion? He's your brother now aint he?"

"He is, but I can't help him either. If not for him the North may already be lost – the Old Gods favour him. He's in their power and beyond my help"

The former sellsword scrunched his face in irritation "If that's what their favour looks like, I'll skip the Old Gods"

"The North is a harsh place. A man gets what he earns, and the old Gods rarely care what that is. They led Lyon to him though"

"Damned wolf" muttered Bronn

"You were quite calm when Lyon jumped on you" said Bran, corners of his mouth twitching upwards

"Why wouldn't I be? You can warg into any animal, reckon you'd have saved me before I gutted the little fleabag"

"I can warg into any animal" agreed Bran "but not Lyon"

Bronn paled slightly at his words.

"It's unusual, but Lyon is of the North and I suspect the Old Gods have given him immunity from me. You saw how he avoided me yesterday"

They lapsed into silence and Bran observed the older man jabbing his fingers into the light snow of the ground. He'd come here for a reason - that was never in doubt.

"You sure we can't do nothing to find those bastards?" asked Bronn, not meeting the King's stare

"I can't help my sisters how they want" said Bran, tilting his head to one side "Does it bother you? Tyrion isn't your friend after all"

Bronn snorted "Course it don't bother me. North aint my problem - or Tyrion. I'm glad to be done with the bloody Lannisters"

"There's only one lion left"

"Where?" asked Bronn, jumping to his feet and brushing the snow from him "Only wolves here, that's for damned sure"

* * *

_Death had come to claim him. Tyrion had defied it for long enough and now it was coming to claim its prize. His day had gone about as well as could be expected. He'd answered letters, gone the practice yard and had dinner with Bran and his council once again. Oh, and there was that other thing. He'd received two letters from Gawan and Robin today – they were coming to get him._

_He wasn't sure how they got him – but they had. Tyrion was at their mercy again, helpless to save himself as he was bound to a table. The cruel words sang through his mind as Gawan and Robin hacked pieces off him. There was no escape, no relief – only pain. His fingers had been removed one by one, followed by his toes. His manhood had been the first to go, rotting next to him on the table. Blood coated his chest as Gawan idly carved cruel words into his skin; monster, imp, freak. The knife was cold and unforgiving as he writhed beneath it._

_"You're starting to bore me pet. Breaking you was fun, but I have other projects to work on" said Gawan, turning his head from him_

_Tyrion followed his gaze to see Sansa and Arya bound and gagged in the corner of the room, their eyes bright with terror._

_Robin loomed over him, a smirk twisting his face "Gawan's done good work. This is the end for you lord of Winterfell"_

_Tyrion had to save Sansa and Arya but he couldn't move; they'd broken him. Gawan reappeared, a large knife in his hand "Farewell, my pet"_

He woke just as the cruel boy plunged the knife into his chest – except he was still going to die. Nothing felt right. His heart was hammering inside his chest and he was shivering uncontrollably. Was this still a dream? Tyrion didn't know – he didn't know anything anymore.

"Focus on my heart beat" commanded a familiar voice; but it seemed so distant

How could he focus on anything when he was about to die? He didn't want to die.

"Breathe in, and out" continued the voice, demonstrating the rhythm

Some part of him knew the voice – and trusted it. Tyrion found himself following the advice. He breathed in, and then out in a rhythm until things slowly became a little clearer. He wasn't tied to a table; he was in bed at Winterfell.

Nausea rolled through Tyrion, even as the shadow of death crept away from him.

"Keep breathing" encouraged the voice

Tyrion realised who the voice belonged to – and where he was. Sansa had somehow pulled him on top of her, the top of her shift pulled down slightly to pillow his head over her heart. The steady thrum of her heartbeat sang into his ear as her hands held him against her; lightly brushing through his hair and across his back.

"It's ok Tyrion" she said "Just lie still. Keep breathing with me, ok?"

He couldn't have moved if he wanted to. Somehow his mind and body seemed to have detached; grasping onto reality was difficult.

"Wh-what happened?" he asked, voice hoarse and so very shaky

"You were distressed in your sleep my love. You'll be ok, just focus on breathing"

"Sorry-"

"Don't apologise. This used to happen to me a lot after Ramsay" said Sansa, rubbing his back "I had a maid who recognised what it was and helped me through it. I felt like I was going to die – but it's a trick of the mind"

Shame wound through Tyrion for his weakness, but Sansa's ministrations were working. Gradually his breathing became more even and the present became more real to him. He wasn't going to die. The covers were thrown off them and he noticed his bed shirt was missing, leaving him wearing only the light breeches he slept in. Sansa's warm hands brushed over him, drawing him against her and keeping his head pressed against the top of her exposed chest.

"What..?" he asked, stumbling to find the words for his confusion

"I woke up when I heard you shouting in your sleep. Your breathing was awful and you were shaking. Lyon was licking you - trying to wake you up, but he couldn't." said Sansa "Just focus on my heart beat. You'll feel strange now, but it will pass - trust me"

Sansa was right - everything felt wrong. His body was weak and shaky, his stomach churning as if he might be sick. Flashes of his nightmare came back to him, cruel words echoing through his mind. A soft rustling registered in his distant mind which he assumed was Lyon at the bottom of the bed near his feet. He stared out across the room, not risking a glance at Sansa. She was being so kind to him, despite his weakness.

"The letters" he said, throat tightening "they…they do…bother me"

"I know they do" she said gently "Don't think about that now, focus on something that makes you happy - like Lyon, or sword practice"

Tyrion had pretended for as long as he could that the letters didn't bother him - but they did. All day and night the words whispered through his mind. He'd done his best to block it out, but in the end the only one he'd been fooling was himself. Sansa could see through him as clear as day.

He followed Sansa's advice - to think about something that made him happy. Gradually his breathing evened out and his pounding heart slowed down to join Sansa's steady rhythm.

'One flesh, one heart, one soul - now and forever'

The words whispered through his mind, a fragment of their sham wedding in Kings Landing. At the time the whole thing had been one huge, unfunny joke. With Sansa's arms around him, it took on a whole new meaning.

"That's good" encouraged Sansa, her fingers curled in his hair as she held him against her "Are you thinking about something that makes you happy?"

Tyrion nodded against her, his voice a whisper "You"

Sansa's fingers stilled in his hair and Tyrion carried on, dampness creeping into the corners of his eyes.

"I really love you" he said, voice breaking "I should have told you before now"

His wife's heartbeat picked up pace beneath his ear, her lips pressing against the top of his head a moment later.

"I love you too"

Tyrion lay against Sansa as she continued soothing him, surrendering completely to her care. Never in his life had he felt as safe and loved as he did lying in her arms. She'd given him everything he didn't know he needed; security, comfort and so much love. The words he'd struggled with for so long seemed so simple now - how had he ever struggled with them?

He had no idea how long they lay like that, but gradually a sense of normalcy returned to Tyrion. Hesitantly, he turned his head upwards to see her face. Bright blue eyes met his, a soft smile curved over Sansa's delicate features.

"Feeling better?" she asked

"Yes, thank you"

"I'm sorry for taking your bed shirt off" she said, rubbing his back "but you were sweating through it and skin to skin contact helps"

"A maid taught you all this?"

Sansa nodded, sadness entering her blue eyes "Ramsay used to leave me locked in the room all day and abuse me all night. When he was gone I'd try to sleep, but the nightmares were awful. Once it got so bad; I couldn't breathe or think - I thought I was going to die. A maid came in to clear the room and realised what was happening"

"What was happening?" asked Tyrion

"She called it a night terror, but said it's known by other names in different places. Her father suffered them when she was a child and her mother taught her what to do" said Sansa "The maid pulled me against her, pulling down her clothes so I could feel her heartbeat. She showed me how to breathe through it, and eventually it stopped. When it was over, I asked her how she knew what it was"

"I'm so sorry"

Sansa stroked his cheek, keeping him against her "Three times she helped me through those attacks. Each time I learned a little more about them and how to handle them"

Tyrion swallowed "What happened to the maid?"

"Ramsay was cruel - everyone knew to fear him and his father. The maid never told me her name and I never asked. When Jon reclaimed Winterfell for us, I asked around hoping to find her and thank her properly. It was too late - Ramsay had already flayed her"

Anger coiled through Tyrion at Sansa's words. She'd suffered far too much in her young life. His body had returned to normal, but he still felt somewhat shaky. During the night terror Tyrion had been utterly convinced his end had come. The idea of Sansa suffering through such an experience alone, with only strangers to aid her filled him with sadness.

"You never should have had to suffer such abuse" he said, brushing her arm

"Nor you, my love"

"Do…do you still have them? The night terrors" he asked. As kind as Sansa was being to him, he couldn't deny his embarrassment at needing her support once again.

"Not for a long time" she said, tugging him closer "I still have nightmares, but they're not as frequent as they used to be either. I know it seems like the nightmares and the memories will never go away, but I promise they will. Things will get better sweetheart - you're doing so well"

"I believe you" he whispered

He hoped that was true. While his body was healing his mind continued to turn back to all that had happened, the now daily letters from Robin and Gawan adding to his fear. His eyes wandered to his discarded night shirt, reaching out with his good hand towards it. Sansa was right; it was damp with sweat as his fingers brushed over it.

"I wouldn't put it back on tonight, it's too wet" said Sansa, following his gaze "I'll find you something else for now if you like, and have it cleaned for tomorrow"

Sansa moved beneath him and Tyrion wound his hand into her night shift, stilling her movement.

"It's ok" he said, throat tightening "You needn't bother"

"Are you sure?" she asked, raising an eyebrow "It's no trouble - I know you don't like sleeping without it"

Tyrion shook his head "I…I'll be fine tonight. If you don't mind that is…"

"Of course I don't" she said immediately, wrapping her arms around him

"Do you want me to move?" he asked "I've disturbed your sleep enough for one night"

To his relief Sansa shook her head "I'm very happy with you right where you are, unless you're uncomfortable?"

"I'm quite alright" he said, adding quietly "Thank you Sansa - for everything"

Tiredness swept through Tyrion as he settled down against his wife, her arms wrapped protectively around him as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Somehow he knew staying close to her would keep the nightmares away. He was safe with Sansa.

* * *

When the first rays of sunlight broke into the darkness of their chambers, Sansa stirred to life. Tyrion had slid off her at some point during the night but to her joy was still huddled against her. She turned on her side to face him, enjoying the closeness between them.

When he'd started shouting in the night, she'd been terrified. Tyrion often had nightmares and she regularly found him shaking silently beneath the covers. His terror was nearly always soundless, yet last night his shouts of fear had echoed around their chambers. It was when she'd tried to wake him she realised what was happening. His eyes were open, but his mind was trapped in some kind of hell.

Sansa's heart broke at his distress, but at least she knew how to help him. Eventually he'd returned to her, his face pale and frightened. She understood – she'd experienced night terrors before.

_'I really love you'_

Her husband's words whispered through her mind as she brushed the hair from his forehead. She'd known it already – his actions more than proved it. Even so, hearing him say it meant the world to her. After all that had happened; the things she'd done – Sansa had been prepared to never have his trust or love. A tingle spread through her chest as Tyrion subconsciously leaned into her touch, his face relaxed and peaceful. Her eyes drifted to his growing beard - and the increased redness of his scar. The wound had healed quite well but whenever Tyrion's beard began to grow the end of his scar would become red and inflamed. Sansa sighed, stroking his cheek. He wouldn't be happy about it, but his face would need to remain bare for the foreseeable future - the damaged skin was just too sensitive.

More than anything she wanted to stay in bed with her husband, but her duty as Queen demanded her attention. Lord Cerwyn and Lady Tallhart would be arriving today, in preparation for the deal being signed tomorrow. Sansa had invited all of the Northern lords and ladies, but they were the only positive replies she'd had. Houses Glover and Manderly had refused, and aside from a few apologies she hadn't heard from the rest of the houses. A slither of nerves trickled through her. Had she had so few responses because the rebellion against her was finding followers? The Queen shook her head, dismissing the thought. Worrying would do no good; whatever was going to happen would happen.

Reluctantly, Sansa untangled herself from Tyrion, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and tucking the covers around him as she rose from the bed. She lifted up his discarded night shirt, still damp with sweat. She knew he preferred to sleep in the bed clothes Esther had made him, and hated exposing the scars that littered his body. Yet last night he'd been content to stay in his only breeches – another sign of his growing trust. The Queen had taken several steps towards her dresser when she noticed an unusual sight.

Lyon was sat on top of his blankets in the corner of the room, his ears drooping as he stared at the ground. He looked as though he'd failed his sole mission in life. Despite Lyon's indifference to her, Sansa changed course to see what was bothering the little wolf.

"What's wrong Lyon?" she asked softly, crouching in front of him

The direwolf whined, glancing sadly at the bed where his master slept.

"Tyrion's fine" she told him

Lyon whined again, dropping his head and scuffing at the floor with his paw. It took Sansa a moment to realise what had upset him. When Tyrion's distress had finally roused her, Lyon had already been there licking at his face to try and wake him. The wolf's efforts hadn't worked and in desperation, Lyon had bounced on top of her pleading for help. He'd remained on the bed with them until he was certain Tyrion was alright before disappearing. Sansa had assumed he'd returned to his own sleep, but it now appeared the golden wolf had been brooding on his apparent failure all night.

"You did everything you could" said Sansa, feeling somewhat silly for chatting to Lyon as her husband did

Lyon huffed, turning his head from her. The Queen sighed. A direwolf identity crisis wasn't her ideal start to the morning.

"Lyon, I know you love Tyrion. You protect him so well and you've known something was bothering him the past few days, haven't you?" she said, pieces falling into place "That's why you've stayed so close to him"

The direwolf gazed at her with sad green eyes.

"You do so much to take care of him. I love Tyrion too. There are ways you help him that I can't, and there's things I can do for him that you can't. He needed me last night, but he'll always need you too"

Sansa reached out to pet the wolf and he allowed it with only a slightly haughty look "Don't blame yourself because you couldn't help him last night. I'll always look after him"

Lyon's eyes wandered to the bed, a hint of longing in them.

Sansa glanced at her husband, turning back to his wolf "I need to get ready for the day, but Tyrion looks a bit lonely, doesn't he?"

The wolf considered her for a moment before his ears perked up and he trotted off towards the bed. Lyon clambered onto the bed, casting a final look glance at her before curling up next to his master.

The Queen sighed as she straightened up. The first crisis of the day had been dealt with at least.

* * *

Arya lifted the letter from her desk, the early morning sun reaching into her chambers.

_Jon,_

_I hope you're happy with the wildlings. When you eventually return to Castle Black and see all these letters from me – don't panic. I'm writing to keep you up to date with our family, and talking to you is easier than poking holes in Sansa or Bran._

_King Bran has arrived at Winterfell along with Davos, Brienne, Bronn and Pod. As excited as I was to see them, Bran is hardly our brother anymore. I'll never understand the three-eyed raven, but I've always trusted Bran. Some of the things he's said to Sansa have been cruel though. Ser Davos misses you, I think. His time as Bran's hand seems to be giving him a drinking problem – further observation required to verify._

_Our sister is doing better, but still carries the weight of the North on her shoulders. Accepting help is difficult for her and she blames herself for a lot of things, no matter how much she seems to be forgiven. There are still days I want to strangle her – mostly when she's being particularly stubborn._

_Tyrion is much better than he was physically. His injuries have mostly healed and he can move around the castle again. The bastards who hurt have started sending him letters though. I can barely stomach reading them, so they must hurt him a lot. Things between him and Sansa are much improved, even if he still seems uncertain about his place in our family. You'd hardly recognise him from the man he was._

_That's all the news for now. Take care of yourself big brother. Anyone bothers you – stick 'em with the pointy end._

_Arya_

Satisfied with what she'd written, Arya sealed the message with her direwolf sigil. She'd written to Jon regularly since he was sentenced to the Nights Watch, and she knew Sansa had written to him a few times. As much as she realised Jon was probably happier with the wildlings, it didn't make her miss him any less.

Her excitement at having Bran back at Winterfell had faded the past few days. He'd told them both he couldn't help them find Robin and Gawan, which irritated Arya to no end. Surely Bran could give them some idea? Tyrion was family - why wouldn't Bran want to help him? He'd been quick enough trying to take Tyrion away from them though. Poor Sansa had looked as if she might burst into tears when Bran made that offer.

She'd always trusted Bran - no matter how strange he was now. Yet, the past few days she'd felt the faintest stirring of distrust. They were his family, this was his home - but Bran seemed to have very little interest in any of it. At least when Cley and lady Tallhart arrive later there will be more people to distract them at dinner. Fortunately Bronn appeared to have lost interest in provoking Tyrion, instead staring moodily at his plate last night.

Arya twisted the letter in her hand. She missed Jon a lot - he would know how to handle all of this far better than her.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Tyrion fidgeted on the stool as Sansa prodded his face. Her fingers gently traced his scar from top to bottom, and he couldn't quite suppress a wince when she reached the bottom part that disappeared into the beginnings of his beard.

"I'm sorry" she said

"It may only be temporary irritation"

Sansa shook her head "Better not to risk it. I don't want you to get sick"

He sighed in defeat "You're right, it'll have to go"

"When the skin's had more time to heal you can always try again"

Tyrion nodded at the idea, but part of him suspected it was hopeless. He'd let his beard grow out the other week and the same thing had happened – the bottom of his scar had become inflamed and sore. Maester Wolkan believed it was caused by a combination of the already delicate skin being reopened by Gawan, and the cold Northern air making it harder to heal. Whatever the case; the outcome was clear – no more beard.

He'd awoken this morning to find Lyon lying in place of Sansa, his wife already up and ready for the day. The memory of last night's dream and the utterly paralysing experience that had followed lingered on the edge of his subconscious; fortunately the memory of Sansa's arms around him and her heartbeat in his ear kept it at bay.

The Queen had pulled him onto the stool by her dresser when he'd awoken, insisting on examining his scar before he got ready for the day. Her fiery hair hung loosely behind her as she cupped his face, her eyes brimming with sympathy.

"Suppose I should call upon Tom and get my beard removed" he said, offering her a sad smile

"There's no need – I can do it"

"You don't need to trouble yourself. I do believe Tom is rather fond of hacking off my hair"

"There's not much to shave" she said "and if you're going beardless from now on, letting me do it whenever needed will be much quicker"

"I could probably do it myself" he mused. Smallfolk surely didn't have a barber to handle such matters. Unfortunately being highborn meant he'd never had to do it himself.

Sansa snorted "You're not doing it yourself. Robb tried once and cut his face to pieces"

"I'm hardly going to make my face any worse"

The Queen tightened her grip on his face "You're very handsome, and I won't have you speak of yourself like that"

Tyrion lightly gripped her hands with his "You're too kind to me"

"I'm honest - you're cruel to yourself"

The words struck a strange chord in him, halting his protests. The Queen kissed his forehead, pulling back from him with a gentle smile.

"Stay right there" she said

Was he cruel to himself? All his life he'd been told how ugly he was – a monster. Sansa had never told him that though; or mocked his height. Even now he was sitting in just breeches, his twisted, scarred body under her scrutiny and she didn't seem at all disgusted. Last night he'd refused Sansa's offer of finding him something else to wear mostly because he didn't want her to move away from him. She hadn't minded; rubbing her hands soothingly over him as he lay against her. This morning he'd worried he'd somehow offended Sansa when she wasn't in bed with him, but her warm smile had quickly put that fear to rest. He'd intended to get changed right away as he still wasn't fond of Sansa seeing his disfigured body, but she'd tugged him over to examine his scar before he had chance.

Sansa was a truly unique woman. A Queen who could have chosen any man – and she'd chosen him. For the first time since they married in the Godswood Tyrion considered that fact. There was no political benefit to marrying him, although he knew part of the reason was security; he would never hurt her. Then again, Cley Cerwyn was a kind man. She chose him instead – a disfigured dwarf. Even after the Wolfswood she refused to end their marriage or send him away.

Tyrion was still pondering this new perspective when Sansa returned with a basin and razor.

"Ready?" she asked, brandishing the blade

"Very well" he conceded "my face is in your hands"

"You doubt my skills with a blade?" she asked, arching an eyebrow as she set about wetting his face

"I trust you" he said "You have steady hands and a delicate touch. Your needlework is excellent"

Sansa's face brightened and she quickly set about the task. As necessary as it was Tyrion felt a glimmer of sadness at the loss of the beard he'd had since fleeing to Essos. Finding it gone after the Wolfswood had been difficult enough, but accepting he wouldn't be able to grow it back for the foreseeable future felt like a permanent end to that chapter of his life. Sansa appeared to sense his melancholy, pausing her work.

"You grew a beard when you fled Kings Landing, right?"

He nodded "Better to hide myself from Cersei's assassins"

"You're home now" she said gently "you don't need to hide anymore"

His wife smiled tenderly at him before resuming her work. Lightness spread through Tyrion as her words sank through him. It was true, he realised. Cersei was dead. He was no longer a fugitive hiding from justice. Winterfell was his home; the Starks were his family.

The blade continued to scrape steadily at his face, removing the shield he'd worn for so long. It didn't take long for Sansa to finish; carefully wiping his face after it was done.

"Perfect" she said, blue eyes shining as she tilted his head to inspect her work

"I'm starting to think you had a plot against my beard" he said, narrowing his eyes playfully at her

"I did like your beard – but I love seeing more of your face"

Tyrion bit back his usual retort of 'Why would anyone want that?' even as it burned on the tip of his tongue.

Sansa stroked his bare cheek "This has many benefits my love"

"Like what?"

A smirk tugged at her mouth as she cupped his face, leaning in and littering him with small kisses "There's more of your face to kiss"

"Sansa Stark!" said Tyrion, laughing as she repeated the action

"Kissing your beard just isn't the same"

"Oh, I knew you had an ulterior motive!"

Without thinking, he pushed his hands up to capture Sansa's face – avoiding her kisses before retaliating with his own. Sansa blushed furiously at his attention, her arms winding around his shoulders as her blue eyes sparkled.

Tyrion had reacted so instinctively the idea Sansa may not welcome his affection didn't occur to him until he was already kissing her face. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the most carefree laugh fell from Sansa that he'd ever heard as she tugged him closer. The sound seeped into him, filling his heart with warmth as she returned his kisses with more of her own.

It was only in seeing Sansa enjoying herself so freely, he realised how rare it was. One thing was certain however; Tyrion would do whatever he could to see it again.

* * *

Arya was on the verge of searching for Sansa and Tyrion when they didn't arrive at the morning meeting. Just before she could raise the alarm and seek them out, the two appeared - and it was very obvious why they were late.

Both their faces were flushed as they sank into their respective seats, continuously brushing against each other and struggling to not smile. While Arya very much doubted they'd spent the morning in bed, they'd clearly been enjoying each other.

"Apologies for keeping you waiting" started Sansa, casting a not very subtle smirk at her husband "What are the updates and business of the day?"

The meeting was being held with Maester Wolkan and Alec in a room just off the great hall. If either of them noticed the connection between Sansa and Tyrion they didn't say anything.

"Well your Grace, the hunt for Robin and Gawan is still ongoing - without any new leads I'm afraid" said Wolkan, glancing at his papers "The Tallhart and Cerwyn parties have been sighted riding for Winterfell and are likely to arrive early afternoon"

"Very good" said Sansa "Any other developments?"

It was Alec who answered "Your Grace, the scouts have reported sightings of other parties moving towards Winterfell"

All traces of mirth fell from her sister's face, and Arya's heart ached for her. Tyrion noticed the change too, his green eyes studying his wife with worry.

"Who?" asked the Queen, lacing her hands in front of her

"A party bearing the sigil of house Mazin has been sighted, as has a group that appear to be house Dormund"

"Did you invite them?" asked Arya

"I extended the invitation to all the Northern houses but only had a few replies. You know the Glovers and Manderlys won't support me until the situation with Gawan is resolved. Larence Hornwood sent an apology for not attending as he's got too much to handle with his new lordship"

"You heard nothing from house Mazin or Dormund?" asked Alec

"No. I sent a letter back with the young lord Mazin for his father, apologising for ignoring them" said Sansa

"I wrote to both houses after that" said Tyrion "I explained our theory about Robin interfering with the Queen's correspondence. I sent a similar message to lady Dustin. Only lady Dustin has answered my letter however"

Maester Wolkan tapped his chin thoughtfully "House Mazin brought you news of the attempted rebellion, it's unlikely they will have turned against you since then"

Sansa's face was tight as she nodded "True. Karlon Mazin didn't like me, but he respected Tyrion"

"House Dormund is unknown" summarised Arya

Tyrion grimaced as he rubbed at his healing hand "I've exchanged some correspondence with house Dormund before but not much. They are quite close with house Glover, so it's strange to see them riding for Winterfell when house Glover is not"

"They may simply be answering the Queen's invitation to attend the signing of the trade deal tomorrow" said Wolkan

"Or they may have joined Robin and Gawan" said Arya

Sansa's face twisted in despair, and it turned Arya's stomach. It wasn't fair. When she'd come to the meeting Arya had seen a glimpse of the girl Sansa had once been, her face relaxed and happy as she gazed at Tyrion. Now the weight of the crown had fallen on her shoulders again, extinguishing the well-hidden spark of innocence.

Tyrion brushed his hand over hers, offering the Queen a small smile "I suspect house Dormund have come on behalf of house Glover – to investigate the claims against Gawan first hand. I doubt they've come for battle"

The Queen nodded, biting her lip "That's quite likely. If that is why they're here, it will be made very clear that Gawan Glover and Robin Flint are traitors and will die – as will any who aid them"

"What are your orders my Queen?" asked Alec "Shall we stop their approach?"

Sansa shook her head "Let them come; they are invited guests after all - but remain vigilant. We can speculate on motives, but we have no certainties. Winterfell will be busy in the coming days and any hint of trouble should be dealt with accordingly"

The council continued finalising plans for the guests soon to arrive but Arya's focus was on her sister. As much as she enjoyed being Queen, the pressure was wearing her down. Her face looked tired, her hair hanging limply around her face. Sansa was excellent at maintaining her dignified Queen in the North facade, but Arya could see through it – Tyrion could too. The lord of Winterfell's face was full of concern as he sat by her side.

* * *

The three-eyed raven saw through a thousand eyes, the power of the old Gods boosting his own in the stillness of the Godswood. He saw many things - too much for one person to see. It was like reading only one word from a thousand books and trying to deduct a story from it. The past was always easiest to see, though often unpleasant.

Bran opened his third eye wider, hoping to see more - anything that could help. He flew further than ever, testing the limits of his power that came from the North. There was something lingering just beyond his reach. He reached out for it, only to be slammed backwards. The force sent him reeling, his mind tumbling until he returned to himself.

The King rubbed his face tiredly, his eyes wandering to the unmoving face of the heart tree. It was as he expected - regrettable though it was. The old Gods would not allow him to interfere; all he could do was guide.

Since returning to Winterfell he'd spent as much time in the Godswood as possible, much to his council's concern. He was King, he had responsibilities - but his duty as the three-eyed raven was heavier still. Bran's mouth pressed into a grim line. It would not be pleasant but he'd offer Sansa the only help he could and do what needed to be done.

Bran Stark revolted at what was coming - his family had suffered enough. Yet the three-eyed raven knew this was the only way. The fate of the North was inexplicably linked to Sansa and every decision she'd already made and would make. Telling his sisters wasn't an option - things had to happen in their own time without interference. Bran was no prophet, but talk of destiny and whispers of the future had a peculiar way of warping people. Stannis Baratheon was a prime example; as was the dragon Queen.

The knowledge he held could not be shared, and Bran's role was merely to warn and remind. In his mother's faith of the seven he was like both the Crone and the Stranger. Foresight and the unknown. Wisdom and death. As a boy he'd longed to be the Warrior; even now he wished to join his family's battle.

It was a battle the three-eyed raven had little place in it however. The old Gods had already chosen their champion; and the pieces were rapidly falling into place.

Bran screwed his eyes shut, a sigh escaping him. What came next was painful in every version he'd glimpsed; but there was no avoiding it. The time was coming to give Sansa the only help he could.

* * *

"Are you alright?"

Tyrion's concerned voice cut through Sansa's muddled mind as they wound their way back towards their chambers.

"I'm fine" she said attempting a smile.

The morning had started very well. While Tyrion was somewhat resistant to losing his beard, he'd allowed her to shave it off and what had followed sent Sansa's heart racing. Seeing Tyrion so distraught in bed last night and his sadness at losing his beard this morning had made her eager to lighten his mood. Her idea to smother his face with little kisses had been risky, but to her joy he'd laughed. She'd hoped to make him smile; reassure him of her love and wash away the insecurities that clung to him. Never had she expected him to return the gesture.

Their playful kissing had quickly turned more passionate, changing from small kisses over each other's faces to their lips joining together. Sansa could kiss Tyrion all day. She'd been kissed before; Joffrey, Ramsay, littlefinger. Each time it had been controlling, cruel and possessive - but it was nothing like that with Tyrion. With him it was gentle - full of care and respect. At their first wedding in Kings Landing they'd been forced to kiss, but it had been the merest brush and to her shame Sansa had been disgusted. Not because of who she was marrying - but because she was being forced to marry a Lannister. Even now she could recall the flash of hurt in Tyrion's eyes after the kiss.

"Had you plans to meet with Brienne?"

Her husband's voice cut through her wandering thoughts, drawing her attention to the tall woman stood in the corridor before their chambers.

"No, I'm fairly sure I didn't" she said, brow furrowing as they approached the Knight

"Queen Sansa, lord Tyrion" she greeted, nodding her head respectfully

She smiled at the older woman "Sansa - I'm not your Queen"

"I'm certainly not your lord" added Tyrion, shuffling awkwardly next to her

Sansa reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. It was no secret Tyrion was particularly nervous around their guests, growing quieter whenever any of them were around. It had confused her at first, but she had an inkling of why he was hesitant to converse with Brienne; Jamie's departure from Winterfell had broken Brienne's heart.

Brienne smiled sheepishly "As you wish. I hope I'm not interrupting either of you?"

"Of course not" said Sansa "Did you wish to speak with me?"

"If you're not busy"

"I always have time for you" said Sansa, relieved at the distraction.

The news of unexpected guests heading to Winterfell had set her heart racing in entirely the wrong way. The rush of joy she'd felt with Tyrion this morning seemed like a distant dream compared to the anxious thoughts swimming in her head. There was nothing she could do except wait for them to arrive and see what happened. Visiting with Brienne would be a welcome distraction.

Tyrion slipped his hand from hers; stepping backwards "I shall take my leave then"

"Wait!" said Brienne, panic flashing in her eyes "I actually hoped I might speak with you Tyrion"

"Oh…of course" he said, nodding reluctantly

It was only then Sansa noticed a battered wooden trunk sat at Brienne's feet in the corridor. Her curiosity piqued, but the Queen said nothing as she led the way into their chambers. Tyrion trailed after her with Brienne carrying in the trunk.

"I know you have guests arriving soon, so I won't stay for long. I thought this had waited for long enough however" said Brienne, dropping lightly into an armchair with the trunk in front of her.

Sansa had no idea what the older woman could possibly be referring to or why she'd asked to speak with Tyrion. Her husband appeared equally confused, fidgeting in his seat as they sat together on the chaise.

"Tyrion, this is for you" said Brienne, sliding the trunk across the floor towards him

It was faint, but a lion sigil was carved into the top of the trunk. Her husband leaned down to open it and Sansa noticed Brienne's face softening.

"I tried to send it on, but King Bran forbade any contact with you" she said, eyes turning misty "not much survived the destruction of Kings Landing, but this is everything I could find"

Sansa was still confused as Tyrion eased the wooden lid upwards, revealing a pile of seemingly random items.

"Things you left behind in Kings Landing?" asked Sansa

"No" said Tyrion, face tightening as he stared at the contents "these are Jamie's things"

Understanding flooded Sansa and she shuffled to the edge of the chaise, draping her arm supportively around her husband. Brienne's usually serious face was twisted in grief, her eyes staring distantly at the trunk as if seeing a ghost.

"I'm sorry it took so long to get this to you Tyrion - and for your loss" said Brienne, swallowing hard "Ser Jamie was an honourable man. Whatever else is said about him, he loved his family more than anything"

Tyrion didn't answer, his eyes locked onto all that remained of his brother. Sansa gave his arm a gentle squeeze, tugging him against her. When her and Jon reclaimed Winterfell, she searched the castle for any of her family's belongings. Much had been destroyed but whatever she did find had both thrilled and pained her in equal measure.

"Thank you Brienne" said Tyrion, his voice thick with emotion

The knight smiled sadly "I'm glad I could give it to you"

Brienne stood to leave, a hint of grief lingering on her face. Sansa smiled gratefully at her friend. She knew from experience how painful the loss of family was - in Tyrion's case, Jamie was the only family member who had ever cared for him.

The lord commander had only taken a few steps when Tyrion spoke "He did love you. When I saw you together it was the happiest I'd seen my brother in a long time. You brought out the best in him; a side too few ever saw"

Brienne froze at the words, and Sansa noted the slightest tremble as her hand brushed the hilt of Oathkeeper. Tyrion's eyes never left the open trunk in front of him, but a bitter smile crossed his face.

"Cersei was poison - I'll never quite understand her hold over him. Jamie did truly care for you though…I wish he'd stayed with you"

Her husband's voice broke as he finished and Sansa gently rubbed his back, reminding him she was here for him.

"Thank you" said Brienne, shaking her head "He couldn't stay with me though - his duty was to his Queen and his family. I hated him for it at first, but eventually I understood. Jamie wouldn't leave her to face death without him; an oath he couldn't break"

Tyrion said nothing though his face contorted in pain. Brienne shot Sansa a sad smile before leaving them alone. As soon as the door closed, she turned her attention to her husband.

"Are you alright?" she asked "I wondered what was in the trunk, but I never expected this"

"I'm fine…just surprised"

Her eyes wandered over the contents of the trunk. There wasn't much in it, truth be told. A few objects bearing the lion sigil stood out and there appeared to be a cloak in there too. Tyrion sat quietly next to her, his eyes a thousand miles away.

The Queen was torn on what to do. She suspected Tyrion needed some space to sort through this alone, but she didn't want to leave him without her support either.

She gave her husband a gentle squeeze, drawing his attention "I need to start getting ready for this afternoon, but I'll be here if you need me, ok?"

Tyrion nodded slightly and she pressed a firm kiss to his head as she stood up, leaving him to sort through the belongings of Jamie Lannister. As much as she wanted to comfort her husband while he sorted through this, Sansa was well aware that grief didn't always need an audience. If she sat with Tyrion, no doubt he would try to push aside the emotions and memories that accompanied the items. At least if she busied herself in their chambers she could keep offer her support whenever needed.

* * *

The arrival of house Cerwyn and house Tallhart wasn't treated with the same excitement as Bran's arrival, but the Winterfell household still formed a welcoming party in the courtyard of the castle. Arya cast her eyes over Sansa as she waited for their guests to dismount. The Queen's demeanour was the icy calm the Northerners had come to expect, but Arya could see the cracks in her facade. The silver crown which sat atop her fiery hair glinted in the afternoon sun. It suited Sansa – but it was a heavy burden.

Alec's scouts had reported earlier that house Mazin would likely arrive a little later this afternoon with house Dormund after that. Tomorrow would be the signing of the trade deal but tonight Sansa would host a formal welcome to all the lords, and set out the agenda for the next few days. King Bran and his council would also be present.

Her sister was nervous, but doing her best to hide it. Talk of rebellion and their failure to capture Robin and Gawan was an ever growing pressure resting heavily on the Queen.

"Queen Sansa" greeted Lady Tallhart, bowing her head at her approach. The older woman smiled kindly at the Queen, as the young lord Cerwyn came to her side

"Your Grace" said Cley, bowing his head

"It is my pleasure to welcome you both to Winterfell; our hospitality is yours" said Sansa, her voice carrying across the area

Arya rolled her eyes. There were so many formalities to observe all the time; it was boring. Nevertheless she waited for Sansa to move forwards, breaking the formal atmosphere as she embraced lady Tallhart.

"Lord Tyrion, it is good to see you" said Cley, smiling as he shook hands with the lord of Winterfell

"And you lord Cerwyn" said Tyrion

"Lady Ayra" greeted the older woman, smiling warmly at her

The Winterfell household dispersed leaving the five of them in the courtyard. The Tallhart and Cerwyn men were led away by Alec to where they could rest.

Lady Tallhart approached Tyrion, laying her hand on his shoulder "I'm pleased to see you looking so well my lord – we were all very worried"

Tyrion flushed at her words "I owe both you and lord Cerwyn a debt. I'm aware you sent your own guards to search for me"

"Of course" said Cley, a frown crossing his face "I'm only sorry we didn't find you sooner"

"Nevertheless, Winterfell is in your debt – as am I" said Sansa, reaching for her husband's hand "Rest assured, those responsible will pay for what they've done"

"As they should" nodded lady Tallhart "You have the full support of my house. Whatever you need"

"House Cerwyn stands with you as well" added Cley "Justice will be done. The captain of my guard will testify to everything he saw when lord Tyrion was rescued – as will all my men"

Arya didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her sister's eyes at their words. She'd told Sansa repeatedly that they had friends; people they could trust. Hopefully she would start to see that not everything had to be done alone.

"Thank you" said the Queen, nodding her head in acknowledgment "I'm sure you're both tired from your journey. I'll have servants show you to your chambers. Tonight there will be a formal welcome and feast with King Bran"

"I believe I met Bran once when he was a boy – he was such an inquisitive child" said lady Tallhart, following the Queen's lead as they headed across the courtyard towards the castle

Arya snorted "He's still inquisitive – except now he knows all the answers"

"He just won't tell you" muttered Sansa

* * *

Tyrion hobbled along after Arya, his ankle creaking stiffly beneath him as Lyon trotted next to him. It was much better than it was, though a dull ache often spread through the limb. It had been a strange day already and it was only early afternoon. Receiving his brother's belongings had been both exciting and heart-breaking. Jamie was a man of few possessions but the few he did have that survived destruction had clearly meant a great deal to him. Sorting through the trunk had been difficult and he was grateful Sansa had given him some space to do it alone. He wanted to show her what was in there, and share some pieces of his family with her - but the arrival of the trunk had been so unexpected he needed a little time to get his thoughts in order.

After greeting their guests he'd had lunch with Sansa and Arya. His wife had explained that she was to meet with lady Tallhart and lord Cerwyn before dinner to update them fully on the situation with Robin and Gawan.

"If you're ok with it Tyrion, I was going to tell them more of the details about what happened in the Wolfswood. There are a lot of rumours going around and they're our strongest allies" Sansa had said

He wanted to forget all about it, but Sansa was right; they needed all the allies they could get and this would be a sign of trust from the Queen to the houses that had stood faithfully beside her.

Reluctantly he'd nodded his assent "I understand"

Sansa had smiled, sympathy brimming in her eyes as she took his hand "You don't need to come to the meeting. Maester Wolkan and Alec are coming with me - I understand it might be difficult for you"

Tyrion wanted to deny it, but it was true; he had no desire to speak about the horrors of the Wolfswood or be the subject of conversation. All the same, it was his duty as lord to be there - supporting his Queen.

"It's alright Sansa, I'll be fine"

"Sweetheart, you don't need to be there. Let me protect you"

"He's not going to that meeting" Arya had said, grasping his other arm and tugging him from the seat "He's coming with me instead"

In the end he'd given a few weak protests, but was rather relieved to not attend the meeting. Although it had left him at the mercy of Arya - who appeared to be leading him out of Winterfell.

"Where are we going?" he asked, slowing down as they approached the gate

"Out"

"Oh"

Tyrion scratched his neck, his heart picking up pace. Arya was waiting expectantly at the gate for him; her face betraying nothing. The last time he'd left Winterfell, he'd been kidnapped. The only time since was the night he'd tried to leave, and he'd only taken a few steps beyond the gate then.

"Shouldn't we stay in Winterfell? What if Sansa needs us"

"She'll be fine. Bored, probably - but fine"

There was no reason to be nervous. After marrying Sansa he'd often left the castle and walked alone into the village. He wasn't alone now - Arya and Lyon were here. The little direwolf nudged against him; urging him onwards.

"Are you coming?" called Arya. Her face remained impassive, though her eyes softened as she watched him

He nodded, though his legs trembled beneath him as he moved to join Arya at the gate. The younger Stark threw her arm around his shoulders, grinning at him as she steered him towards the small forest right of the castle.

_'It's not the Wolfswood'_ he reminded himself _'It's just a forest'_

Much to his relief, Arya didn't take him very far. They only went a few trees deep into the forest and the walls of Winterfell could still be seen behind them. Even so, the trees made Tyrion claustrophobic. So many of his nightmares centred on the Wolfswood and not being able to escape the hellish place. Arya stopped at a large, snow covered boulder with a few smaller ones scattered around the base of it. Lyon didn't seem at all bothered by the forest, wandering towards a patch of sunlight on the light snowfall - and immediately settling down for a nap.

"So much for protection" he muttered, raising an eyebrow at his little friend

"What do you need protection for?" called Arya

He turned to see her already sat atop the boulder, spinning a knife lazily through her fingers.

"Arya, what are we doing out here?"

"Come up here" she said, patting the space next to her on the boulder

Mercifully it wasn't too high and the smaller boulders acted as stepping stones - though his old injuries did ache at the exertion of scrambling up next to Arya.

"I'm here" he breathed, dropping down beside her

"Good"

"Are you going to tell me why we're sat on a boulder in the forest?"

"I didn't think you wanted to go that meeting" she said, staring off into the trees

He twisted his hands, there was no point denying it "I didn't really"

"You were going to though"

"I have a duty" he said, shrugging "It shouldn't bother me anyway - it's in the past"

"You never talk about it" she said, turning to look at him "It's not been seven weeks since we brought you home. No-one expects you to be over what happened in the Wolfswood"

"I try not to think about it" he said, stomach lurching "my dreams remind me often enough"

Arya nodded, returning her gaze to the forest spread out before them. Silence fell between them and Tyrion dared a glance at the ground some seven foot below them. They weren't terribly high up, but he wasn't excited about attempting to climb down either.

"I'm glad you didn't take Bran's offer the other night"

Tyrion turned his focus back to Arya. The younger Stark wasn't looking at him, but her hands were tapping against the rough stone beneath them. His brow furrowed; was this why she'd dragged him out here? While Sansa hid her emotions, she was still easy enough to read if you knew what to look for. Arya was totally unpredictable.

"There's nothing left for me at Casterly Rock" he ventured "and I've no desire to leave Winterfell"

"Good. I wouldn't let you leave"

The corners of his mouth turned upwards "Why Arya, it almost sounds like you'd miss me"

Arya rolled her eyes "Of course I would idiot"

"You needn't worry. As I told your sister - I don't want to leave"

"Didn't you hear me? You were never going anyway"

As much as it warmed his heart to know how much Arya cared for him, he suspected that wasn't the entire reason she'd brought him out here. Something was bothering her. The more he considered it; he hadn't seen much of Arya the past few days outside of meal times.

"Are you enjoying the royal visit?" he asked, noticing her jaw tighten at the question

"About as much as you and Sansa"

"Sansa's not enjoying it at all" he said "I thought you were happy to see your brother again?"

"You're my brother"

"True" he agreed "but so is Bran"

Arya's shoulders slumped as she turned to look at him "I know Bran's different. I don't expect him to act like he used to - he's the three-eyed raven now. We're his family; his pack - and he acts like he barely knows us"

"It's true that Bran isn't like he used to be, but he'll always be your brother. None of us really know what it's like to be the three-eyed raven. To see so many things must be a terrible burden" he said "I think it takes quite a toll on him"

"He won't tell us where Robin and Gawan are. He wouldn't tell us where to find you in the Wolfswood"

"I cannot answer for Bran, but I spoke with him at length when we were preparing for the long night. It was strange to hear him speak of the three-eyed raven; as though he was a different person than himself. Whatever power Bran has, I do believe it creates a conflict within him"

"So we should accept that he won't help us?"

Tyrion shrugged "I think we shouldn't pay too much heed to what he does and doesn't say. Whatever he said to Sansa the other day clearly upset her"

"You're a cynic"

"I believe what I see. Bran does have power - but he is not a God and he is not infallible" said Tyrion, squirming on the boulder "Have I cheered you up yet? I'm rather new to being a big brother, you know"

At that Arya gave a half-hearted smile "Not a bad effort"

"Good. I suppose we should go and rescue Sansa"

"That eager to kiss her again?" she asked, narrowing her eyes

"How did you-"

"As if it wasn't obvious why you two were late this morning"

Heat crept up Tyrion's neck at her observation. Arya's tone had been mocking, but he hadn't missed the flicker of hurt in her eyes. He hadn't meant to sound like he wanted to leave; he just assumed they were done.

"I'm quite happy talking with you" he reassured, shooting her a smile

Arya snorted, jabbing him in the ribs "You thought I dragged you out here to talk? No, I brought you here for a purpose"

"Are you finally going to tell me what that purpose is?"

It was unusual for Arya to be moody but Bran's distance was obviously bothering her. Tyrion silently berated himself for not noticing the shift in her mood. Ever since he was brought to Winterfell Arya had looked out for him; making sure he ate and left his room in those early days. While he'd noticed her absence the past few days, he'd assumed she was busy with Bran. Now he wondered whether she'd been on her own. The developing closeness between him and Sansa saw them spending more and more time together - and less with Arya. Guilt bloomed in his chest. He loved Arya; she was the sister he'd always wanted. Did she feel excluded?

He turned to Arya intending to apologise, only to find her brandishing six wicked knives in her hands. How she'd managed to conceal them on herself he had no idea. She smirked at the shocked expression on his face, mischief sparking in her eyes.

"Seven hells" he muttered, eyes widening at the blades

"Little off the top, big brother?"

"Sansa would lock you in the dungeon if you touched my hair. You know it's her favourite toy"

"Imagine the look on her face if we shaved your head"

"As amusing as it would surely be, I'm afraid I'll have to decline your offer"

"Fine" said Arya, sighing in resignation

"Dare I ask why you're carrying so many knives?"

She placed the knives on the boulder next to them, reaching across to grasp his left hand.

"I heard you needed to find an activity to do with your left hand"

Tyrion nodded "Maester Wolkan suggested using it more than usual to build strength and reduce some of the stiffness"

"Sansa said you get cramps in it"

"A few times" he said as she prodded the hand

Since Wolkan had cleared him to use the hand yesterday he'd tried to start using it again, with limited success. Cutting his lunch had caused his hand to cramp and ache to the point Sansa had insisted on doing it for him.

The younger Stark nodded, releasing his hand "I have the perfect activity for you"

"Oh?"

She lifted a knife pressing the handle into his left hand "I'm going to teach you to use a knife"

He arched an eyebrow "Does one not just stick them with the pointy end?"

Arya smirked, effortlessly twirling a knife through her fingers. She spun it several times before launching it at a tree with lightning speed. The handle quivered as the blade stuck fast in the trunk opposite them.

"Very impressive" he said, astounded once again at her skill with weapons

"I'm glad you think so" she said "your turn"

"Arya, I appreciate the offer but there isn't a chance in hell I could do that"

"You fight with a short sword. Knowing how to use a knife is essential against bigger opponents" she insisted

Tyrion had no desire to disappoint Arya, and passed the blade to his right hand to have a go. Immediately she caught his arm.

"This is a left-handed activity. You fight with a sword in your right hand. Your left hand can be for throwing knives, and it'll build strength in it"

Her grey eyes bore into him, daring him to argue. She was still the stubborn girl he'd come to know, but there was a hint of loneliness in her eyes that he knew all too well. Jon was gone and Bran had disappointed her. Sansa spent all of her time with him; leaving Arya a lone wolf. It was strange in a way, as Arya had always appeared totally in control. In all his time here, he'd never seen any hint of vulnerability in her. Yet it was there, lurking just below the mask. Her pack had left her alone.

_'Not anymore'_ he vowed _'I'm her big brother - I'll make sure she never feels excluded or lonely ever again'_

Jon wasn't here to look after her and Bran wasn't really capable anymore; he would take care of Arya. His own big brother had always done the same for him.

"Very well" he said, gripping the knife in his left hand "though I do hope you're a patient teacher"

Her grey eyes lit up "We'll start slowly. You're a quick learner, I'm sure you'll pick it up"

"I'm also clumsy. If I lose a finger you have to explain it to Sansa"

"Deal"

Arya's face brightened as she began showing him how to best grip the knife for effective use. He listened intently, giving Arya all his attention.

As they worked, Tyrion silently promised to make sure he spent time with Arya. However close he and Sansa got, his relationship with his little sister was just as important.

* * *

"My lords and ladies, I'd like to formally welcome you to Winterfell and extend the full hospitality of the castle to you all. I recognise your sacrifice in taking time away from your own seats to join me as we take the first steps in building a better, brighter future for the North" said Sansa, pausing to let her words settle over the guests

The Queen swept her hand to the left "King Bran and his council have travelled North in order to reaffirm the alliance between our separate kingdoms, and sign the historic trade deal that will usher in an era of wealth and prosperity for all"

The great hall was packed; the long tables were occupied by the Cerwyn and Tallhart parties, alongside King Bran's guards and the Winterfell household. Sansa stood at the head table with Bran on her left and his council alongside him. Tyrion sat to her right as her husband and the lord of Winterfell, followed by Arya, lady Tallhart, lord Cerwyn, Maester Wolkan and Alec. The set up was similar to the one they'd taken when Daenerys came North.

All the eyes of the hall were on her as she addressed them, though her own gaze wandered to the Mazin and Dormund parties that had arrived not long ago. She hadn't been able to greet them at the gate but Alec and the Maester had, settling them quickly into rooms just before dinner. The young lord Mazin was watching her intently as she spoke, while lord Dormund appeared more focused on Tyrion at her side. She'd only met him once before. Lord Dormund was a middle aged man, thin as a stick with a bald head and light brown beard covering his face.

"Tonight I wish to confirm the agenda for the coming days, after which I believe a feast is in order" she finished, settling into her seat as the Northerners banged their fists on the table in agreement

Sansa was about to ask Wolkan to read out the agenda for the next few days, when lord Mazin got to his feet.

"Your Grace" he called, bowing his head "before you begin, I ask that I may speak for my house?"

The Queen's face was impassive as she nodded; no-one would notice the way her hands twisted in her lap as the young lord moved to the centre of the hall. Karlon Mazin looked far cleaner than the last time he'd been at Winterfell. Gone were his dusty travelling clothes, replaced by a dark blue tunic with golden details. A golden cloak hung around his shoulders, bearing the sigil of house Mazin. His mess of dark hair hung loosely around his face, though the scar across the right side of his neck stood out angrily despite his lordly appearance.

The young man dropped to one knee before the head table, his eyes searching the Queen's face before landing on her husband.

"It is an honour to meet you lord Tyrion" he said, bowing his head low

"And you lord Mazin. I've exchanged correspondence with your father often - he speaks highly of you" said Tyrion, inclining his head

The lord turned his attention back to Sansa, his voice carrying throughout the room "Your Grace, I come to beg forgiveness on behalf of my house. I accused you of forgetting us in our time of need, but it is clear now that was never the case"

A few of Sansa's frayed nerves relaxed, as she searched the young man's face for any sign of dishonesty.

"We received a letter from lord Tyrion just a fortnight ago, which suggested the Queen had never received my father's letters in the first place as a traitor was working against the crown" he said, lip curling in distaste "On behalf of my father and house I beg your forgiveness, your Grace. We doubted you when we should not have"

Lord Mazin dropped his head awaiting judgement, and Sansa felt every eye in the great hall on her. She glanced at her council seated to her right. Alec and Wolkan appeared to be satisfied with the man's honesty as did Cley. Lady Tallhart gave the slightest nod, signalling her acceptance of the apology. Arya's eyes were narrowed on the kneeling man, but she also nodded to Sansa. Finally her gaze landed on Tyrion at her side - it was his advice she would always value the most. Her husband offered her a small smile, inclining his head.

"Rise Lord Mazin" said Sansa, turning to face the lord "I well understand how my perceived silence to your calls for aid damaged relations between our houses. The relationship between house Mazin and the crown has always been excellent, and I look forward to working together in the future. Your apology has been fully accepted. I hope your father accepted my own?"

"Certainly, your Grace" said the young lord, mouth twitching upwards "my father was touched that you wrote to him personally. When lord Tyrion's letter made it clear you had never received our correspondence and were not at fault he asked that I ride here with haste to beg your forgiveness"

Sansa struggled to contain the satisfaction that tugged at the corner of her mouth. Perhaps her worry had been for nothing. House Mazin would not turn against her, though perhaps there was a way to strengthen the connection.

"Lord Mazin, your house has stood by the Starks for generations. You were integral in helping us reclaim Winterfell. It is long overdue therefore that I ask you to join my council and represent your house"

"I would be most honoured, your Grace" said lord Mazin his face lighting up, as he bowed lowly "I am yours to command"

The Northerners cheered at the appointment, their jubilant shouts echoing around the great hall. The young lord made his way back to his table, his own men thumping him on the back with enthusiasm. Sansa turned to her husband, dropping her voice.

"What do you think?"

"A wise choice" he said "Quite the honour for a smaller house and certain to heal over any lingering cracks in the relationship"

Sansa prepared to continue with the address when lord Dormund rose. Ice slithered down her back as the lord approached. Unlike lord Mazin, she suspected this man was not here to pledge his support. All throughout her welcoming address and conversation with lord Mazin, the older man's face had grown increasingly agitated. His eyes narrowed on her as he strode down the centre of the hall until he stood before the high table.

_'He's one of them'_ whispered her mind _'he's here to take everything from you'_

The anxiety that had pestered her all day roared to life once more.

"Your Grace" he started, bowing his head "I am sorry to interrupt you, but I fear we cannot continue this meeting until certain malicious rumours are put to bed once and for all"

"What rumours are they?"

She was a Queen; this man was nothing.

"Lord Robin Flint and lord Gawan Glover are being slandered across the North; accused of treason, torture and slavery. It is an utter farce, damaging to the North as a whole. Surely you wish to put right these lies?"

"They are not lies" she said, forcing her voice to be firm "They are accused and will face justice"

"On what evidence? I've heard from multiple sources no-one ever saw either of them in the Wolfswood. Are we to take the word of wildlings and children?"

_'They don't believe you, little dove'_ sang a voice that sounded sickeningly like Cersei _'Kill him. Power is power'_

"That is untrue" shouted lord Mazin from the back of the hall "lord Tyrion was there. He saved all those women from slavery; including a young girl from Ramsgate"

"That is hardly evidence" dismissed lord Dormund, his eyes never leaving Sansa "Lord Gawan grew up playing with my children - he's a good lad. Lord Robin is a well-respected Northman from a strong family"

"You doubt my husband?"

"I respect lord Tyrion" he said, though he lacked any conviction "he has done excellent work in the North - but he is not one of us"

Immediately a defiant roar went up around the hall from the Winterfell household, joined in equal force by the Tallhart, Cerwyn and Mazin houses. Lord Dormund was either deaf or dense for he didn't flinch from his position. Bran was observing the scene with distant eyes while his council watched her with sympathy. Sansa's own council were furious, but holding their tongues - waiting for her lead. Arya looked positively murderous as she stared down the lord.

Sansa's breathing picked up pace. She had to say something; how dare he insult Tyrion? Yet when she opened her mouth the words refused to come. Sansa wasn't the Queen of ice right now; weeks of stress and worry had damaged her defences. It was Sansa Stark, the scared little girl sat at the high table - not the Queen in the North. Her husband stiffened at her side, shrinking into his seat.

Despite the numerous glares he was receiving, lord Dormund continued on "Lord Robin and lord Gawan are of the North - and the North remembers. To accuse them of such heinous crimes without evidence is unthinkable"

"It's interesting how you speak and lord Glover's voice comes out" said lady Tallhart, frowning in distaste

"There are many in the North who share my scepticism, my lady" said lord Dormund, his eyes flickering to the older woman briefly before returning to Sansa "We merely wish for proper clarification. What happened in the Wolfswood exactly? What evidence do you have?"

"That's none of your business" snapped Arya, her hand curling into a fist

"With all due respect it is my business. It is the North's business" said lord Dormund, his group of men bellowing their agreement "The rumours are laughable. Some claim it was unsullied behind the abductions while others claim the Lannister - with no Northern blood - rode on the back of a direwolf! As the lords who chose you as Queen, we demand clarity your Grace"

Sansa was losing control. Tyrion had told her pieces of what happened in the Wolfswood, but every confession from him was hard won. She'd asked his permission to tell Cley and lady Tallhart because they were friends, and even then she'd stuck to the basics of what happened – focusing on his capture, rescue of the girls and Grey Worm. Sansa had told them both her husband had been tortured and badly hurt; but she would not go into details. It was Tyrion's pain to share when he was ready. Now lord Dormund stood before her demanding details she wouldn't give. Telling him what he wished to know would betray the trust Tyrion had given her – and that mattered more than anything.

The lord wanted details, but she suspected he'd already made his mind up. This man was only the first; the rest of the North were going to rise against her. She fought to control her mind as the voices of her long dead mentors bombarded her with advice.

_'Appease him; he may be useful. Tyrion has no use'_ said littlefinger

_'How dare he address his Queen with such arrogance; show him real power'_ adviced Cersei

The noise in the great hall was deafening as the groups loyal to her began to argue with those sceptical of her. How could she unite the North when she couldn't even unite her guests? Her council and Bran's were watching her expectantly, waiting for her to respond. Lord Dormund's face was neutral but his eyes glinted in satisfaction, sensing his argument had won. Sansa shrunk in her chair, biting her lip. She had to do something, but she couldn't – her mind was in chaos.

Before she could attempt to regain control, an unexpected voice cut through the room instantly silencing the Northerners.

"If you wish to know what happened in the Wolfswood, perhaps you should ask someone who was actually there"

Sansa turned to Tyrion. His green eyes sparked with anger as he stared down the lord before them.

"You want details, am I correct?" he asked

The older lord appeared somewhat surprised by the turn of events, but he kept his head high as he met Tyrion's gaze "We deserve the truth"

"Very well. Here's your truth; Robin Flint and Gawan Glover made a deal with the unsullied. They would hand me over in exchange for huge amounts of gold"

Lord Dormund scoffed "They are both wealthy lords; why would they need gold?"

"Running a slavery business has costs I suppose. There were forty women being kept in a barn in the Wolfswood when I was brought there. They had to pay their guards somehow" said Tyrion. His voice was calm and controlled; but there was an edge of steel beneath it that Sansa hadn't heard since Kings Landing.

"Aye, I'll accept there was some bad business happening in the Wolfswood, and I'll even accept your role in saving those unfortunate women" said lord Dormund "what you speak of could have been run by anyone however"

"Yet it wasn't. I saw Robin Flint and Gawan Glover many times when I was there; spoke to them many times"

Murmuring broke out in the hall, and lord Dormund looked distinctly uncomfortable "If you were their prisoner why would they speak to you? I've known Gawan all his life and he's a good lad"

"Why would they speak to me? To find out where the women had escaped to – they couldn't find them after I directed the women to a forgotten path in the Wolfswood. Does this satisfy your need for evidence my lord?"

Lord Dormund was rapidly losing ground, but still he continued to cling on "It's your word against theirs. There is no further evidence"

At that Tyrion's voice turned icy, as he leaned forward in his seat "That's where you're wrong. You see, I am the evidence. That good lad you claim to know so well tortured me for days; and he left his mark"

"My lord, I..."

"I will spare you the details of what those beasts did to me; I already relive it every bloody night"

With lord Dormund quaking under his gaze, Sansa was unexpectedly reminded that Tyrion was the son of Tywin Lannister. It was a fact the lord standing before them seemed to be rapidly remembering.

"Is that enough evidence for you lord Dormund? Or do you wish me to strip down so you can inspect that good lad's work up close?"

"Of course not, I only wished for clarity my lord"

"Lord Robin made certain he had a turn, are you here to defend him too?"

The older lord took a step back, the colour draining from his face "No, I..."

"What Gawan Glover and Robin Flint have done shames us all" said lord Mazin, banging his fist on the table "justice must be done for the girls who suffered and for the lord of Winterfell"

Tyrion's green eyes were filled with contempt as he stared down lord Dormund "I don't care what you think of me or what you believe. Everything I've told you is the truth. My word means nothing to you though; I'm not one of you, am I?"

"I didn't mean it like that..."

"Oh really, how did you mean it?" said Tyrion, raising an eyebrow "I believe I've told you far more than you deserved to know. I don't care to know what rumours are going around, but I can guarantee you I did not ride on the back of a direwolf"

Sansa caught the smallest twitch of Tyrion's mouth as a low growl erupted from behind them. Lyon had somehow made his way into the hall and now prowled to Tyrion's side, brushing against him before darting under the table to stand in front of it. Direwolves were incredibly rare. A symbol of both house Stark and the North. An awed silence fell over the hall as the golden wolf stood in front of them - glowering at lord Dormund. While the Winterfell household had grown used to Lyon, the sight of him had stunned the rest of the hall.

"I may be small but I'm not sure Lyon could carry me" said Tyrion, leaning back in his chair "It's true I have no Northern blood, but it doesn't seem to bother my friend"

As Arya had often pointed out, Lyon was the most Lannister looking direwolf she'd ever seen. This wasn't lost on the older lord. His eyes widened at the sight of the Northern direwolf that was so clearly bonded to the lord of Winterfell.

Lord Dormund dropped to his knees before the high table, all traces of arrogance wiped from his face "Mercy my lord. I did not mean to offend...I only...lord Glover was most upset"

Lady Tallhart tutted "Lord Glover should be crawling here on his knees to beg lord Tyrion's forgiveness for his sons crimes – not sending a jumped up minor lord to do his dirty work"

"My men aided in the search for lord Tyrion. They will all attest to what they saw in the Wolfswood" added Cley

"As will I" said Alec, contempt twisting his usually calm face "I did not think any man capable of such atrocities as they committed"

The chaos that had gripped Sansa's mind eased as her husband so expertly tore lord Dormund to shreds. She could see him for what he was now. Not a threat - a pawn.

"I hope this satisfies your need for evidence" said Sansa, forcing the tremor from her voice "Or do you doubt your liege lord as you do your Queen?"

"No, your Grace. My lord" he said, raising his bald head "I beg your forgiveness; my loyalty is to the crown. House Dormund will stand with you against these traitors"

"Very well" said Sansa, narrowing her eyes "You will return to lord Glover and tell him all that you have heard. Remind him that if he wishes to speak on behalf of his son he has been invited to do so. Slavery will not be tolerated in the North, nor will treason. Justice will be done for all those who suffered at their hands"

"I...I will ride at first light, your Grace"

"No, you'll ride now"

The lord flinched "Your Grace…"

"That is an order my lord" she said, adding icily "and lord Tyrion is very much one of us. The disrespect you've shown him tonight could yet cost you. My husband would be well within his rights to have you punished for your insubordination. As lord of Winterfell, all Northern houses hold fealty to him"

She turned to Tyrion at her side. The anger had fled his face, leaving behind the uncertainty she'd come to know so well.

None the less, his voice was steady as he spoke "I think lord Dormund understands his errors"

"I do, my lord" he said, bobbing his head up and down

"Besides, Lyon's already eaten"

Lord Dormund paled as the Northerners jeered him. The crippling anxiety that had overtaken Sansa before had all but left now; leaving both anger and guilt in its wake. She nodded to Alec, and the captain of her guard rose while Lyon eyed the kneeling lord as though considering a second dinner.

"Come lord Dormund, my men and I will ensure you're well prepared for your journey back to lord Glover"

Utterly humiliated, lord Marlin Dormund left the hall in disgrace – his men following silently behind.

"I believe it's past time we continued with this meeting" said the Queen

Maester Wolkan finally stood to set out the agenda for the coming days, but Sansa's mind was a million miles away. After the chaos of lord Dormund the rest of the meeting was rather slow and by the end Sansa could see the Northerners were growing restless. She announced dinner would be served soon, following a short break. As desperate as her people were to get on with the food, Sansa needed a minute to breathe – and speak to her husband.

Tyrion had sat silently at her side following the departure of lord Dormund. When he intervened, Sansa's heart had leapt at seeing the old Tyrion who'd played the game so well in Kings Landing. When she first brought him North, she'd been desperate to find the old Tyrion behind the quiet mask he wore. Now she understood her mistake. The old Tyrion didn't exist – he was a mask. One her husband had worn for so long everything thought it was the real him. When Sansa stopped trying to find the man she once knew, she found the real Tyrion. There was no doubt his ruthless intelligence and cutting wit were part of him – but they weren't all of him. Sansa understood. She had her own mask too.

She had loved the old Tyrion; but she adored the real one. The man who befriended the smallfolk, who spent hours reading to his direwolf; the man who was sweet and kind and surprisingly shy.

"Will you step outside with me?" she asked, laying her hand on her husband's shoulder "I could use some air"

Panic flashed in his eyes, but he nodded all the same. The earlier tension had left the hall with house Dormund, leaving the Northerners bantering cheerfully as they waited for dinner while Sansa slipped out of the hall with Tyrion. She reached for his hand, rubbing a gentle circle with her thumb to try and reassure him. No matter how many times she told her husband he was never going to be sent away, the unspoken fear continued to lurk in his eyes.

The crisp Northern air was welcome as it sliced at Sansa's face. Whatever paralysis had overtaken her in the great hall faded under the Northern moon as it cast a soft glow over the Winterfell courtyard. It had been snowing. Their footsteps crunched as they made their way around the ramparts and up onto the battlements. Sansa took a moment as they reached the top to let her gaze wander over the snowy expanse of the North. It was huge; the responsibility for it resting heavily on her shoulders. Her duty to the North was immense - but nothing was as important as her duty to Tyrion.

She turned her gaze to her fidgeting husband, gently squeezing his hand "Why so nervous my love? You've done nothing wrong. I do owe you an apology, however"

Tyrion's brow furrowed "For what?"

"Lord Dormund insulted and disrespected you. I should have defended you...instead I did nothing"

"It's quite alright Sansa – I know you've been stressed with Bran's visit"

"It's not alright" she said crouching down to be eye level with Tyrion, and taking hold of his face "Lord Dormund said you weren't one of us, and that couldn't be further from the truth"

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, but he shook his head "I'll never be a Northerner"

"Just because you weren't born here, doesn't mean you don't belong" she insisted "being a Northerner isn't about blood, it's about character. You're honourable, loyal and a good man"

"I'm not a good man Sansa – I've done terrible things"

"Being good doesn't mean you always make the right choice, it means you always try to" she said, brushing her thumb over his cheek "I've done terrible things as well, but I'll do my best to make up for it."

His face scrunched up as though considering her words "Perhaps"

"Lord Dormund had no right to speak to you as he did. As Queen I should have demanded he address his liege lord with respect. As your wife I should have had him thrown out for insulting you" she said, dropping her gaze "I'm sorry Tyrion...I just froze"

"You put too much pressure on yourself Sansa. I don't really care what some minor lord thinks of me"

Sansa knew that wasn't entirely true. As much as Tyrion tried to pretend he didn't care what others thought of him she'd realised over the past weeks he cared rather a lot. She stared into his familiar green eyes, searching for any hidden hurt. Ever since Bran had told her he'd glimpsed a future where Tyrion was dead by his own hand, her nerves were constantly on edge with the horrible thought lingering at the edge of her mind. Before tonight's dinner she'd sought Bran out, cornering him in his room. While she'd avoided her brother as much as possible for the past few days, she had to know.

"You mentioned a future where Tyrion was dead by his own hand" she'd said, swallowing hard "Is that still a possibility?"

The three-eyed raven looked unusually tired in his wheelchair, though Bran had tried to smile "I only ever saw that possibility once Sansa and Tyrion was very alone. He's not alone now"

It was hardly a reassurance, but there was some truth to it. Even so she found herself constantly watching her husband for any sign he was upset or unhappy. A hand brushed against her face and she was drawn from her musings to see Tyrion watching her with concern as he lightly cupped her face.

"Are you well?" he asked "You seem tired...and distracted"

It was with some embarrassment she realised she had been holding her husband's face while staring blankly at him for the last few minutes.

"I'm fine" she said, though her eyelids felt like heavy blankets above her eyes

"Did you mind that I intervened with lord Dormund?"

"Of course not" she said, noting the hint of uncertainty in his eyes

"I just couldn't listen to him anymore. He kept asking you for details, and I knew you wouldn't tell him to protect me"

"You trusted me with what you told me. I wouldn't repeat it without your consent – and he had no right to demand anything"

Tyrion smiled, brushing his fingers lightly down her face "It was quite fun putting him in his place; and all without a drop of wine"

"I wish I could do it as easily as you"

"Practice and experience" he said, with a shrug "When I served as Joffrey's hand I often saw men like him. A major house wants something – usually information – but don't want to be seen to want it. They fire up a minor lord with promises of gold, glory or both and send them off to do their dirty work. My father dealt with many at Casterly Rock, and eventually you learn to see through them"

Sansa sighed, leaning into his touch "I shouldn't have let him rattle me. For a moment he had the power...and I was helpless again"

"You're far from helpless" said Tyrion "and you're quite new to ruling. Learning to see through the lords around you is a skill that takes time"

"Today's been so strange" she said, recalling the mixture of emotions that had stirred within her throughout the day

"It started with the loss of my beard if I recall"

"Are you still in mourning, my love?"

Tyrion's eyes sparked with mischief "If I still had my beard I'd look more Northern. Pesky minor lords wouldn't be questioning me"

"I do believe we discussed the benefits of no beard this morning"

"I fear it's been a rather long day" he said, offering her a shy smile

Sansa smiled at her husband "Do you require a reminder my lord?"

Tyrion leaned forward pressing his mouth gently onto hers, and the heat that spread through Sansa melted her worries away.

The icy voice of the Queen in the North kept whispering about duty and going back to the great hall.

Sansa Stark on the other hand, was in no rush at all.

* * *

"The free folk residing on the Gift are said to be fleeing South" announced Alec, his face grim as the council met early that morning

Arya drummed her fingers on the table, observing lord Mazin out of the corner of her eye. It was a good choice to ask him to join the council. While Arya didn't share Sansa's interest in politics she recognised the benefits of keeping the young lord close and giving him responsibility. It was a clear message as well. The Queen in the North would remember who was loyal to her.

"Why?" asked Sansa, stress hanging heavily over her face "It took nearly three weeks for the rescued women to be escorted back to the Gift. The guards who went with them only returned to Winterfell a week ago"

"I have scouts stationed throughout the North in the hunt for Robin and Gawan" said Alec, pointing to several places North of Winterfell on the map "we suspect they're hiding in that area, and using the empty castles for cover. The area is far too large to search without anything to narrow it"

Maester Wolkan leaned over the map "Karhold, Last Hearth and the Dreadfort are all empty. Unless the free folk strike out towards Deepwood Motte the first castle they will likely come upon is Winterfell"

"It's possible they're heading South because of Robin and Gawan" said Arya, crossing her arms "presumably they're hiding somewhere further North and the free folk are the only other people between here and the wall"

"I could send men to intercept them, your Grace - though if they're fleeing I can only assume there's a problem at the Gift" said Alec

Arya watched her sister rub her temples, gazing at the map. The wildlings had been given the Gift as a reward for their help in the long night and to keep Jon's deal with them. They wouldn't need to bend the knee to Sansa as Queen, but that also meant they didn't benefit from the crowns protection. They were supposed to remain peacefully at the Gift.

"Is there any way to help them?" asked Tyrion quietly "They're mostly women, children and the old. If they're being pursued by Robin and Gawan they won't stand a chance"

"What would you have me do?" asked Sansa, turning to her husband

"I know they're not under your protection as Queen, but perhaps they could stay South of Winterfell until Robin and Gawan are caught?" said Tyrion, squirming in his seat

Sympathy swelled in Arya for her sister. She was damned either way. If she forced the wildlings back to the Gift and they were attacked she would be known as the Queen who let innocents die. If she let them come South of Winterfell the other Northern houses would be furious. Many of them still despised the free folk despite their help against the white walkers. Then there was Tyrion. He'd sacrificed himself to protect the wildling women and girls. Leaving them at the mercy of Robin and Gawan would make his suffering meaningless.

Sansa turned to lady Tallhart. Without lord Manderly or lord Glover, she was the most experienced on the council. The young lord Cerwyn sat at her side.

"What do you think my lady?" asked Sansa

"I believe lord Tyrion is correct" she said "whether they bent the knee to you or not, they still reside in the North. Until Robin and Gawan are brought to justice it is better to not leave anyone in their path"

"I wouldn't want any of them to get hurt" said Sansa "but the other Northern houses are unlikely to welcome them either"

"Your Grace" said lord Mazin "there is land near Ramsgate. We may be a small house, but the North remembers. Ramsgate will shelter them until those beasts are dead"

"Would the free folk trust the protection of any of us?" asked Cley "Their girls suffered because of two Northern lords after all"

"I could go to them" offered Tyrion, rubbing the back of his neck

Sansa's face remained calm, but her eyes flashed with horror at the prospect of Tyrion leaving as she grasped his arm "It's far too dangerous my love"

"I don't want those girls to suffer anymore" he said, shifting uncomfortably "There's more chance of them trusting me"

When Arya had taken Tyrion out of Winterfell yesterday he'd looked terrified - and they hadn't gone far beyond the gate. Looking at his face now it was clear he wasn't ready for such a journey; however willing he was to protect the girls.

"You're still recovering" said Sansa, biting her lip

"Lord Tyrion, allow me to go in your stead" said lord Mazin drawing the council's attention "My house are in your debt. One of the girls you saved was my guard's daughter. She speaks highly of your courage, and the kindness the free folk showed her when she was afraid and far from home. Please, allow me to serve you now"

Sansa looked ready to knight the young man in relief.

Lady Tallhart nodded in approval "A good idea. Better to not risk lord Tyrion; if Robin and Gawan are behind this undoubtedly they would want revenge against him for ruining their plan"

Tyrion looked almost as relieved as Sansa, as he slumped in his seat "Thank you lord Mazin. Your offer is most kind"

Arya raised an eyebrow at the young lord. He'd greeted Sansa far more warmly this morning than on his last visit to Winterfell, though it appeared he had more interest in Tyrion. Lord Mazin had been particularly eager to meet him when he arrived at the meeting, clasping his hand and thanking him personally for what he did in the Wolfswood – much to Tyrion's embarrassment. Now his dark eyes shone with determination as he looked between the Queen and the lord of Winterfell

"Your Grace on my honour, I will not fail you" said the young man

All eyes were on Sansa now, awaiting her decision. Arya's focus was once against drawn to how tired her sister looked. Her red hair hung limply around her shoulders and her face seemed paler than ever. Handling the royal visit and the ongoing strain of finding Robin and Gawan was wearing her sister down.

"Agreed. Lord Mazin will ride to meet the wildlings and bring them to Ramsgate" said Sansa, as her council nodded their assent "I will ask the Winterfell guards who escorted them back to the Gift to accompany lord Mazin and his own men. Lord Cerwyn is correct - they are likely to be wary of us. Familiar faces will hopefully ease any concerns"

"With your permission your Grace, I will write a note to Rose. She cannot read but if someone could read it to her she should recognise it is from me, and understand this is not a trap" said Tyrion, glancing sideways at his wife

The Queen smiled at her husband "Of course"

"Very well" said lord Mazin, bowing his head "I shall leave after the trade deal is signed tonight, if that is acceptable?"

"Yes" said Sansa "I'd like as many Northern lords there as possible"

The council continued to make the necessary arrangements for the wildlings, before the talk moved to the trade deal. It was mostly Wolkan and Sansa discussing it with lady Tallhart, with Cley occasionally offering input. Alec and lord Mazin were more focused on the map and where the free folk were most likely to be found.

Arya was bored. She always found these meetings dull, but today she couldn't be bothered pretending to listen. She'd asked Bran earlier if he wanted to play cyvasse or do something together and he'd once again refused.

She missed Bran - the real one, not the three-eyed raven. She missed Jon too. Her relationship with Sansa was far better than it had been in childhood and she enjoyed her sister's company; but Arya missed her brothers. It often felt as though Tyrion was the only brother she had left, and Sansa rarely let him out of her sight. At least yesterday she'd been able to pull him out of Winterfell and spend some time alone with him.

Her eyes wandered to the little Lannister sat beside the Queen. Tyrion appeared to be fiddling with something in a pocket of his tunic, glancing worriedly at his wife. Today would be the culmination of months of work by Sansa when the trade deal was signed. Arya hoped when the deal was done, some of the pressure would lift from her sister's shoulders. Bran had also appeared rather tired the past day or so, his eyes more distant than ever.

For years Arya had fought to get her family back, but nothing would ever be as it was. She would keep trying with Bran though. As Tyrion pointed out, he would always be her brother no matter how different he was these days.

* * *

Where Bronn's reflexes may have slowed over the years, the skills he'd learned had not. Since his argument with Tyrion the other day, Bronn had taken it upon himself to discover what exactly was going on with his old friend, for he was certain there was more happening at Winterfell than what he'd been told. The lord of Winterfell was nearly unrecognisable from the man who'd once served as Joffrey's hand.

For the last few days he'd employed some of his old skills to observe the little Lannister from a distance. Bronn had watched Tyrion in the practice yard, chatting easily with the men as he worked at a practice dummy. He'd followed Tyrion as he helped the old kennel master shovelling up piles of dog shit. Not once did Bronn see him drink any wine or even ale. Much of his time was spent with one or both of the Stark girls, who constantly fussed over him.

Tyrion was quiet - even around the Starks. When that bald Northern lord had started mouthing off last night, Bronn had been dumbfounded at Tyrion's intervention. For a moment he'd seen a shadow of the man he'd once known. It faded as quickly as it came however, with the Queen taking her husband outside before dinner was served. Bronn had followed soon after them on the pretence of needing to piss. He wasn't sure what he expected to find but seeing the two of them kissing on the battlements wasn't one of them.

Now the lord of the Twins found himself lazing on the top of a stack of crates hidden by a pillar of the castle. It would be difficult for anyone to notice him in the shadows unless they looked up, but it gave Bronn a good view of the stables across from him. It was nearing midday and the sun shone on the castle as the Winterfell household hurried through the sludge of snow to complete their duties.

"Have you given instructions for your saddle to be made?" asked Sansa, her voice carrying lightly from the stables to Bronn's ear

"Yes" said Tyrion "it should be ready in a few days"

"When it's ready, we can go for a ride if you like? There's a lovely stream not far from here"

"I'd like that" said Tyrion, and Bronn could practically hear the smile in his voice "thank you for the horse Sansa. It's been a while since I've been riding - on my own horse at least. Sharing a horse with Cayn just isn't the same"

"I'm sure it isn't"

Bronn leaned out from his hiding place to see the stables more clearly. Tyrion and Sansa were stood admiring a young, grey horse. The lord of Winterfell seemed perfectly happy chatting with his wife, though Bronn's mind wandered to last night. He'd heard many rumours about what had happened to Tyrion in the Wolfswood, but no-one seemed to want to tell him specifics. At least with lord Dormund demanding answers Bronn had heard them too, and it painted a nasty picture of what had happened.

_'Tortured me for days'_ Tyrion had said_ 'left his mark'_

Bronn sighed, rubbing his face. As far as he was concerned Tyrion would have been better off as Bran's hand in Kings Landing. The North was a shithole and the people were weirdos. He'd heard plenty of talk about Ramsay Bolton and Tyrion's tormentors seemed to be just as twisted.

"Another letter came this morning" said Tyrion, drawing Bronn's attention "I stopped reading it when I realised. I just can't stomach it anymore…"

Sansa wrapped her arm around his shoulders "I'm sorry Tyrion. We will catch them, I promise"

"I gave it to Wolkan to put with the rest. It shouldn't bother me" he said, adding so quietly Bronn had to strain to hear "but I can't forget what Gawan writes. I can hear his stupid voice whispering in my ear all day and night"

"You think it's just Gawan writing the letters?"

"I don't know. Robin is cruel, but those words are all Gawan. The boy's deranged…"

"I won't let anyone hurt you ever again" said Sansa, bending down to kiss his head

Bronn watched his old friend as Sansa comforted him. He didn't catch what she was whispering to him, but a smile crossed the little Lannister's face as he took her hand. When Bran had offered to restore his land and titles, Bronn assumed Tyrion would jump at the chance. He'd always wanted Casterly Rock after all - and there was nothing up here for him. Hearing Tyrion confirm the horrors he'd suffered had made his refusal even odder.

After observing him the past few days Bronn had been forced to accept Tyrion would not be coming back with them. He suspected there were several reasons why Tyrion wouldn't leave the North, but he knew the Stark girls were two of them. Bronn didn't know what he expected to find by observing Tyrion, but he hadn't expected to see him so comfortable at Winterfell. The small folk knew him, the guards were his friends - even the servants liked him.

Watching Tyrion and Sansa make their way out of the stables hand in hand, Bronn knew he would have to give up. The Tyrion Lannister he knew was dead. The last lion was happy among the wolves.

* * *

Applause rang through the great hall as Sansa signed the trade deal lying on the table. The hall was packed with the visiting lords and ladies as well as many of the local traders. Her council sat behind her to the left of the hall, while Bran's occupied the seats to the right. A table had been brought forwards on the raised platform where the deal was being signed. The Queen stamped her direwolf seal next to her name, before stepping aside for Bran.

The King was rolled forwards by Ser Podrick Payne, adding his name along from her own and stamping it with his three-eyed raven seal.

Maester Wolkan had earlier read out the contents of the agreement before placing it on the table for her and Bran to sign. Sansa held her head high as the people cheered - this had taken months of work. The Stark banner hung behind her as Bran's banner hung next to it. The decorations in the great hall had been changed temporarily to reflect the union between the kingdoms. The Stark banners were interspersed with Bran's three-eyed raven banners, as well as the new black banners bearing Tyrion's golden lion sigil she'd had made for his name day. A smile tugged at her mouth recalling her husband's surprise at seeing the banners in the hall after his name day. Tyrion had apparently thought the banners were just for that night, but Sansa had quickly made it clear they were to stay. Even today the lord of Winterfell had grinned at her upon seeing his new lion banners hanging proudly in the hall.

Sansa looked at her brother, who nodded his assent.

"All of you present today are witnesses to the signing of this historic trade deal, which will enable both kingdoms to recover from the years of war that have ravaged this country" she said, voice echoing off the walls "Today represents the beginning of a strong, independent North. As we move forwards we will work with the six kingdoms of Westeros as friends and allies"

"The relationship between our kingdoms is vitally important" agreed Bran, voice monotone "many difficult choices have had to be made over the last few months, and more will follow. Deals such as this will pave the way for both kingdoms to prosper"

While the audience had cheered at Sansa's words, looks of unease spread through the crowd at Bran's. It was fortunate that Bran had no more to say, folding his hands in his lap and looking to Sansa to continue.

With the deal officially signed, the feast began in force. Music filled the great hall as Sansa was swept along by the rush of people who wished to speak with her. As soon as the feast began she caught her husband's arm, guiding him along with her. As much as he denied it lord Dormund's disrespect was clearly lingering in his mind. That everyone in the North had heard rumours about the Wolfswood didn't help either. She'd noticed many of the guests pointing at him and muttering amongst themselves. If left to his own devices she was certain Tyrion would hide in a corner all night, but Sansa wouldn't allow him to hide in his home. She was proud of her husband; he had nothing to be ashamed of.

Hours past in a daze of conversation, music and wine. A warmth filled the great hall that had been lacking for far too long as the Northerners danced to the musicians tune. A wistful sigh escaped Sansa as she watched the scene in the great hall. Lords and ladies dancing and laughing, servants giggling at the handsome guards. This was what she wanted for the North - so people could live in the kind of peace she'd known before leaving Winterfell.

Tyrion slipped his arm from hers, whispering "You should join them"

"Do you want to dance?" she asked quietly

An old sadness came to his eyes as he shook his head "I can't…"

Sansa smiled at her husband, lightly kissing his head "I don't want to dance either"

"You needn't deny yourself. I'm perfectly happy watching you"

"And I'm perfectly happy with you" she said, taking his hand and tugging him towards some empty seats at the side of the hall

"I'm sorry" he said as they sat down, green eyes turning downcast "You deserve more than this. More than me"

Sansa sighed snaking her arms around Tyrion and drawing him against her side "My love, when will you realise you're everything I could ever want? There's not a man in this room that compares to you"

Their position was drawing more than a few curious glances. Her Septa would have told her it wasn't proper for a lady to drape herself so wantonly around her husband in public, much less for a Queen. Tyrion appeared to have noticed the attention, squirming slightly in her grasp but Sansa didn't care what people thought of her. She loved Tyrion - she was proud to be his wife and she'd be damned if anyone made her feel ashamed for showing it.

"I love you" she said, kissing his cheek

"Sansa, everyone is watching us"

"I'm sure they're rather jealous" she said "the most handsome man in the room is all mine"

She lay her head against his, waiting for the self-depreciating comment that was sure to come. To her surprise it didn't.

"I love you" he said, dampness gathering at the corners of his eyes as he turned to look at her. A wide smile covered his face as his lips brushed against hers for the sweetest of moments.

* * *

Bran watched the feast with distant eyes, Ser Davos downing his fifth cup of wine beside him.

"Do you not dance Ser Davos?" he asked

"I'd never humiliate you like that, your Grace"

His eyes wandered to Pod who'd attracted the attention of several girls near the back of the hall, before his gaze moved towards Brienne. Ever watchful the lord commander's hand rested on her sword as she spoke with Arya and a few of the guards. She'd spent quite a bit of time here with Sansa; her and Podrick were familiar to many of the Winterfell household. Ser Bronn had disappeared soon after the signing of the trade deal, but that was to be expected. The master of coin had been rather moody since his argument with Tyrion.

"Queen Sansa looks happy" commented Ser Davos, his eyes finding the same scene Bran was watching.

Sansa and Tyrion were totally lost in kissing each other, a happiness filling his sister's face that Bran hadn't seen since childhood. He'd meant to speak to her tonight - to offer what help he could. The three-eyed raven understood it had to be soon, but Bran Stark wasn't willing to disrupt his sister's happiness yet.

His help would cause her great pain; but it had to be this way.

Arya kept glancing at him across the hall, and something inside him twisted for pushing her away. Bran ground his teeth. His father had always taught him that duty was a heavy burden - and what had to happen next weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Bran could only hope his sisters trusted him - however different he was now. If not, their pack would not survive what was coming.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

After last night's celebration Winterfell was unsurprisingly sleepy as Tyrion made his way through the halls.

"Morning m'lord" greeted one of the servants sweeping the corridor

"Good morning" he returned

The drink and food had flowed freely last night and Winterfell appeared to be paying the price today with many of the guests sleeping off their merriment. Tyrion on the other hand, felt great. One of the many benefits of no longer drinking was no longer suffering the consequences. As surprised as everyone was by his soberness since coming North, no-one was more surprised than him. Part of his reason for no longer engaging in wine was guilt. If he hadn't been drinking so heavily, would his mind have been sharper? Could he have seen Daenaerys for what she was, or stopped her before she slaughtered innocents?

Tyrion was not proud of the man he became after leaving Kings Landing. The trial, Shae's betrayal and killing his father had broken him in a way that had never healed. In Essos he'd become a shadow of his former self. Drinking excessively, making mistakes that cost lives. Sansa had been right when she said he feared Daenaerys; as much as he refused to believe it. Tyrion had become a coward - too afraid to stand up to Daenaerys when he knew she was wrong. The slaughter of Kings Landing was a guilt that would never go away, but Tyrion would never be that man again.

"Want to come the practice yard, I can teach you to throw knives?"

Arya's voice slowed Tyrion down as the great hall came into view. The King was being wheeled out by Pod while Arya stood before them. Tyrion hung back, not willing to interrupt.

"No, thank you" came Bran's emotionless reply

"We could go to the crypts. You always liked seeing the statues of our ancestors"

"I can't" said Bran "I need to speak to Sansa"

Arya wasn't the most demonstrative of her emotions, but Tyrion didn't miss the flash of hurt on her face.

"I'll leave you to it then" she said, voice hardening as she pushed her way past Bran and out of the great hall

Tyrion had already had breakfast with Sansa and had been on his way to see Wolkan about his hand, but now he changed direction to follow after Arya. His hand could wait. The cramping and stiffness was slowly lessening but the Maester insisted on checking it regularly anyway and Sansa agreed.

He waited until Pod and Bran were out of sight before hurrying after Arya. His ankle groaned at the exertion, but he had to catch up with her. Spilling out of the great hall and into the courtyard, his eyes frantically searched the snow covered area for any sign of her.

"Arya?" he called

The courtyard was a hub of activity but there was no sign of the younger Stark.

"Arya!" he tried again

He was about to give up when something cold slammed into his back.

"Up here"

He turned to see Arya sat on top of a pillar several feet above him, another snowball ready in her hands. Her face was neutral but the way her foot was kicking absently at the pillar betrayed her hurt at Bran's rejection.

"Is that any way to greet your brother?" he asked, craning his neck to look up at her

The question was answered by a snowball landing in his face, the icy cold slithering down his neck and soaking into his tunic.

"Arya!"

She rolled her eyes, jumping agilely down from the high pillar to land beside him. Tyrion pouted at her, wiping the snow from his face.

Her grey eyes flickered with amusement "You were looking for me?"

"If you're not too busy hurling snowballs at innocent dwarfs I thought you might help me with something"

"With what?"

"I have a plan"

"Dangerous words big brother"

"Will you help or not?"

Arya shrugged "Sure"

Tyrion grinned up at her, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her towards the castle "Excellent. I'll explain everything, but your help is essential"

Some of the sadness lurking in Arya's face faded as curiosity took over. He'd been considering this idea for a few days and now was the ideal time. The only real issue he could foresee was the need to go into the village. The thought of leaving the safety of Winterfell caused his stomach to twist, but he couldn't hide here forever. He'd intended to carry out his plan alone, but he was loathe to leave Arya when she looked so lonely. Aside from that, her company would hopefully ease his nerves.

He pulled her along by the wrist, brushing past a snow covered fence. His right hand swept the snow into a ball, and he turned towards Arya launching his projectile as quickly as possible. She leaned easily out of the way, the snowball sailing past her head. No sooner had the snow left his hand did a heap of snow land in his face sending him staggering backwards.

"How did you-"

Arya snorted in amusement "Nice try, but you'll have to do better than that"

* * *

When the door to her chambers creaked open Sansa was sat in the same position she had been since Bran left not long ago.

"Hello Sansa" called her husband, wandering towards where she sat at the desk. A second set of footsteps indicated he wasn't alone.

The Queen lifted her head to see Arya was with him. Her sister hung back near the door while Tyrion approached her. The lord of Winterfell appeared uncertain as he stood beside her, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Did you see Wolkan about your hand?" she asked

"Oh, yes" he said, waving the appendage dismissively "I met with Arya and we saw the Maester before coming here. He said its fine"

Sansa's mind was stuck on her conversation with Bran but Tyrion's nervousness was quickly gaining her attention. She reached out to grip his good hand "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" he said, shooting her a smile "I just thought…perhaps…I could go to the village today?"

"Are you asking, or telling me?"

"Asking…no…telling?" he said, studying her as though trying to decipher which answer she'd prefer

Sansa's face softened as she tugged him towards her, lightly wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she stared into his conflicted green eyes.

"Why would you need to ask, when the North is your home?"

"It seemed good manners to ask the Queen" he said, a hint of red creeping up his neck "If you need me for anything today, I'm quite happy to stay"

Sansa's eyes strayed to her sister, who shook her head. Ever since Tyrion had been returned to her she'd tried to make it clear this was his home - not his prison. It was a message she'd thought he was accepting. The Queen turned back to her husband who was fidgeting in her grsap.

"Bran came not long ago. He thinks there's a way he can help us but I'll need to meet him in the Godswood"

Tyrion nodded, relief flickering across his face "I understand. When do we need to go?"

"Bran said it can only be me. I'm to meet him alone"

It was when Tyrion tensed in her arms she realised why he'd asked her if he could go to the village; he wanted her to say no. Arya had commented the other day that Tyrion had expressed no interest in going beyond Winterfell's gates, whereas he'd previously gone to the village quite often to fulfill his lordly duties. Sansa had dismissed her sisters concerns. Her years away from home had made her reluctant to leave the castle walls, and she was quite happy to keep her husband safely tucked away in Winterfell.

"You don't need to ask my permission to go anywhere" she said gently "I don't know what help Bran will give us but he said we could be in the Godswood for a while"

"You don't need me to do anything while you're busy?"

"No my love. I think most of Winterfell will be sleeping off last night's celebration" she said "I'll be spending the day with Bran by the sound of it"

Sansa didn't miss the way Arya's face darkened at her words, crossing her arms as she hovered at the edge of the room.

"Suppose I'll go the village with Arya then" he said biting his lip

"You could sound a little more cheerful" called Arya, her face softening "come on Tyrion, we'll have fun"

As much as she wanted to protect Tyrion, allowing him to hide in Winterfell would do nothing to help his battered self-confidence.

_'You hide in Winterfell'_ taunted her mind

Sansa was terrified of letting him go, but he needed her reassurance not her worry. She forced a smile, cupping his face and tilting it upwards to meet her gaze.

"Have fun" she told him, kissing his forehead "there is one thing I would ask..."

Tyrion eyed her curiously as she considered her words. She didn't want to sound as though she was giving him rules or controlling him, but her worry would never ease if she didn't say something.

"Sweetheart, the North is yours to go where you like when you like" she said, stroking his cheek "but please, for my peace of my mind – bring your sword when you leave the castle. Take Lyon with you. I know you're not in the habit of carrying a weapon, but I worry. The North is so much more spread out than Kings Landing, and...I can't bear the thought of you not being safe..."

Sansa trailed off, worried she'd come off as controlling but to her surprise Tyrion's green eyes shone brightly at her words.

"Of course" he said, mouth turning upwards "Lyon would pout if I went without him anyway"

It took a moment for Sansa to realise why he looked touched rather than annoyed at her worry. Most men would be frustrated at their wife's fussing, but Tyrion wasn't most men. She doubted anyone had ever shown genuine concern for him when he went out. From what she knew of his family they'd most likely hoped he wouldn't come back.

"Thank you" she said, leaning her head against his

Arya rolled her eyes impatiently "Hurry up. If you two start kissing we'll never get anything done today"

The redness that flooded Tyrion's face surely matched the colour rising in her own. Nonetheless she tugged her husband closer enjoying his warmth. Bran's words hadn't filled her with enthusiasm for her own day.

_'There is one way I might offer you some help'_ he warned _'but it won't be pleasant'_

Of course she'd agreed. Anything would be helpful at this point. Tyrion pushed back from her, embarrassment lurking on his face.

"What is it?" she asked, concerned she'd made him uncomfortable

"It's just..." he started "I'm not used to wearing a sword, and I'm not entirely sure...could you?"

"Oh" she said, understanding flooding her "I'll help you, though I can't say it's my area of expertise"

"Seven hells" muttered Arya, moving from her place by the door to pick up Tyrion's sword "You two are hopeless"

* * *

Unease wound through Bran as Sansa appeared in the Godswood, making her way towards him. He'd offered the only help he could and by coming here his sister had accepted.

"You're sure?" he asked as Sansa approached

The Queen was wearing a dark blue gown with fur trim as her Stark cloak hung over her shoulders. The Northern air was crisp, and fresh snowfall covered the ground and trees of the Godswood. Bran had warned his sister this could take a while.

"I'm sure" she said, schooling her face into a mask of determination "will this help find Robin and Gawan?"

"No" said Bran, meeting her gaze "please sit, and I'll explain what I can"

Sansa dropped onto the log next to his wheelchair, both as close to the heart tree as possible. The three-eyed raven had asked Pod to move the log closer to the tree before sending his sworn shield away. When he'd visited Sansa before he'd made it clear this had to be done alone - there could be no-one else in the Godswood. His sister had agreed to his request and instructions had been given that they were not to be disturbed. Several guards were positioned at the entrance to stop any possible intrusions.

"You know my power comes from the old Gods?" he asked, as Sansa nodded "Their power is strongest in the North and limits my own. I can't tell you where to find Robin Filnt or Gawan Glover because I cannot see them. The last few days I've searched for any way to help. The old Gods are clear that I cannot interfere; they've chosen their champion"

"Who?"

Bran gave only a sad smile, shaking his head "I know I frustrate you. I wish it didn't have to be this way. Things must happen in their own time. I can give you no information about the future or present"

Sansa was far more intelligent than she'd let people believe in childhood. The Queen quickly saw through his words "You can give me information on the past?"

"Not exactly"

"You're not making any sense"

The three-eyed raven shifted in his wheelchair, studying the Queen in the North. He wanted to help his family, but this was all he could do - a fact that frustrated Bran Stark to no end.

"I can see the past through the raven's eyes" said Bran "I think I can show you the past too"

"To see what?"

Bran shook his head "I don't know. You'll see what you need to - what the old Gods will allow you to see. I tried this with Ser Davos the other day but it didn't work. It should work with you though; you have Northern blood and you are Queen. If the old Gods will allow it, you will see as I do"

Sansa's face was neutral but her eyes betrayed the fear she was hiding. Bran understood. His power frightened Sansa - sometimes it frightened him too. While he wasn't entirely certain what Sansa would see, he had several ideas; none of them good.

"Will this help?"

He leaned back in his wheelchair, tilting his head to one side "This will give you information. When or how you use it depends on your own choices and what you see"

Sansa pressed her mouth into a tight line nodding sharply "Show me"

"I've never done this before and it is likely to take all my concentration" warned Bran "Whatever you see is in the past - it can't be changed"

Bran reached a hand out towards his sister. The Queen hesitated a moment before accepting it, her slender fingers closing hesitantly around his own. The Godswood reached out to Bran like an old friend as his mind flew, this time taking Sansa with him.

* * *

However hard she tried, Arya struggled to shake off the sting of Bran's rejection. Ever since he arrived at Winterfell she'd tried to spend time with the brother she rarely saw, but he seemed to want nothing to do with her. The rejection hurt but hearing Bran was going to spend the day with Sansa instead had made it worse.

Arya glanced to Tyrion at her side. At least he hadn't forgotten her, though the little Lannister had grown increasingly nervous as they left the safety of Winterfell and headed into the village. Part of the reason she'd taken him to the forest the other day was to test her theory - that he was afraid to leave the castle. As much as his confidence had grown within their family, there was still a long way to go to build his self-esteem. While he'd been enthusiastic in explaining his plan to her this morning, he'd lost most of his nerve when it came to actually going into the village. Fortunately Sansa had seen his asking permission for what it was and encouraged him to go - though she had made a request.

Tyrion kept glancing at his waist as he walked beside her, eyeing the valyrian steel sword hanging from his belt. The sheath that went with the blade was black with golden inlay criss-crossing throughout the pattern.

"Have you never worn a sword before?" she asked as they wandered through the village.

"I've never owned a sword before" he said "Father forbade it. I've had daggers and worn them on occasion, though they are much smaller to carry. I used an axe in the battle of Blackwater, but Pod carried it until I needed it"

Arya nodded. To her it was bizarre that Tyrion had never owned or regularly carried a weapon bigger than a dagger. In the North wearing a sword was as much a part of life for men as wearing breeches. Tyrion had appeared quite embarrassed at not knowing how best to wear a sword and for some unknown reason assumed Sansa would know. Fortunately Arya had the expertise in this area and had shown them both how to secure it to his belt and draw it quickly when needed. They'd both been surprised to learn it wasn't as simple as attaching it anywhere. Arya had learned through experience that a weapon had to be secure and accessible – the wrong placement could be a costly mistake if you needed to use the weapon. Tyrion had looked rather awkward when it was done, as though expecting them to mock his lack of knowledge - something that would never happen. It wasn't his fault no-one had ever taught him such things. When he used a sword in the practice yard Arya knew he borrowed one from the rack and returned it afterwards; wearing a sword would take some getting used to.

"Thank you for helping with the sword" he said, fiddling with the pommel "I should have known how to do it, but it's not something I ever really paid attention to before"

"Anytime" she said, bumping his shoulder "it feels strange now but you'll get used to it"

Arya suspected part of Tyrion's discomfort was due to his height. While his weapon was a short sword, his size made the weapon seem larger than it was – bouncing awkwardly against his leg.

Over his weeks of recovery Tyrion had gradually opened up around them, joking and smiling far more regularly than when he first arrived. It was easy enough to see he was growing comfortable with his new home and family. Yet the further they went from Winterfell the more withdrawn Tyrion grew, glancing nervously around him as though he expected to be attacked or scorned. Arya's fingers flexed as her brother shrunk in on himself beside her. She would enjoy killing Robin and Gawan. Several villagers had greeted the lord of Winterfell warmly upon seeing him again, though even this did little to ease the anxiety clinging to him. Within the castle Tyrion was mostly protected from the whispers and rumours about the Wolfswood and what had befallen him. Out here, Tyrion was exposed to the fact everyone in the North had heard some version of what happened to him.

If only he could see the villagers were loyal to him. Their stares were not the condescending sneers of windbag lords, but pride for their lord who had sacrificed himself to save lowborn girls.

Arya didn't think Tyrion had anything to fear in the village, though she understood his nerves. Most of this morning's enthusiasm had crumbled under his fears however. Tyrion looked ready to bolt back to the castle, but Arya wouldn't let him hide. The North was his home and she wouldn't let Robin and Gawan make him feel unsafe. It was different this time; he wasn't alone in the village, and at Sansa's request he'd agreed to carry a weapon if he left the castle.

The other part of Sansa's request was with them too. Lyon trotted just in front of them, head held high as the small folk admired him. Many had heard whispers of the direwolf bonded to the lion lord of Winterfell. Arya and her sibling's wolves had attracted a lot of attention as well; but they were Starks. Tyrion was well-liked by the small folk and accepted as one of them, despite what lord Dormund had said the other night. The fact a direwolf had chosen Tyrion as master had further endeared the Northerners to their Lannister lord. Unlike Tyrion, Lyon rather enjoyed the attention he received as he walked proudly in front of them – green eyes searching intensely for who was most likely to scratch his ears.

"Thank you for coming with me" said Tyrion, watching his wolf dart off to meet his admirers

"Anytime"

"I'm sorry about Bran" he said, eyes downcast "it's my fault he's spending the day with Sansa instead of you"

"How is that your fault?" asked Arya, crinkling her brow

"What happened with Robin and Gawan...it's caused huge problems for everyone" he said, fidgeting with the pommel of his sword "if I hadn't been captured by them...Sansa wouldn't have to deal with the other lords questioning her, or be under so much pressure..."

Arya's mouth fell open in surprise, but Tyrion ploughed ahead before she could respond.

"I can't help but think if I hadn't come here, things might have been better for you both. There would be no unrest in the North, no hunt for Robin and Gawan. The Queen wouldn't have wasted so much time looking after me..."

That was more than enough for Arya as she grabbed Tyrion's shoulder halting his walk "Hold on"

Green eyes peered warily up at her, a deep regret buried in them. She'd thought her brother was accepting his place in their family, but his words showed only his doubts. Arya wasn't sure whether it was lord Dormund the other night or anxiety from leaving Winterfell, but these dark thoughts would not be allowed to cling to Tyrion. The younger Stark crouched before him, roughly grabbing his shoulders.

"Are you really trying to convince me that we would be better of without you?" she said, digging her fingers into his heavy clothes "You're the only reason Sansa is still alive"

Tyrion's face paled "What?"

"You're a clever man. If you hadn't come here it's clear enough what would have happened. Sansa would have married Robin most likely – because of you we know that he only wants power. He wouldn't settle for being lord of Winterfell; Sansa would be killed eventually"

His eyes widened at the thought, his body tensing under her hands.

"If you hadn't come here forty women would have been sold into slavery. No-one else would have bothered to try and find them" continued Arya, locking her grey eyes onto Tyrion "Without you Sansa would still be the Queen of ice. You saved her from herself. I couldn't reach her; I didn't think anyone could. When I brought you home from the Wolfswood I got my brother back – and my sister too"

"Arya..."

She tightened her grip, shaking him "Don't you dare think we'd be better off without you. It was your courage that saved those women and exposed those bastards for what they are. It was you that brought back the real Sansa Stark. House Mazin refused to join a rebellion, not because of loyalty to house Stark but because of their respect for you!"

As she spoke her hands had wound tightly into Tyrion's tunic, her voice rising. Arya blamed a lot of people for Tyrion's despairingly low self-esteem. Top of that particular list were his family followed by Robin and Gawan, everyone who'd ever mocked him and that stupid lord Dormund. It was only respect for Sansa that had stopped her launching a blade at the up jumped lord. If he ever dared to enter Winterfell again he'd better bloody crawl to Tyrion.

"Arya, I..."

"I swear to all the Gods if you apologise again..."

"Thank you" he said, covering her hands with his own. There was a desperate hope lurking in his eyes that wanted to believe her words, though it was embarrassment that covered his face.

"You're right" he said softly "I know all that, I just..."

He trailed off and Arya loosened her grip, offering him a smile "You just needed reminding"

"Yes, I suppose"

"You're family Tyrion. It wasn't your fault you got hurt so badly, and we'll always take care of you – it's never a burden" she said "You need reminding again come to me, or Sansa if you want the nice approach"

A half smile curved across his face "I'll remember"

Arya straightened up, nudging him to continue their walk. Everything she'd said to Tyrion was true. Without him Arya had no idea how she would have saved Sansa from herself. The Queen of ice had proven to have only one weak spot; and that was Tyrion. When confronted with her husbands battered body, she'd thankfully regained her Stark identity. The closer Sansa got with Tyrion, the more Arya saw the sister she'd known in childhood.

Arya was happy for them both. Sansa's loving attention was slowly healing years of hurt in Tyrion, while he was breaking through Sansa's defences. Her sister may have made terrible mistakes, but Sansa deserved her knight in shining armour; different as he was from her childhood fantasies. The lord of Winterfell kept patting the object in his pocket, as if reminding himself why he'd ventured out of the castle. Arya tried to hide a smile. She had no doubt her sister would be thrilled with what Tyrion was planning.

"Good to see ya m'lord!" called an old man pushing a cart along the road

"Lord Tyrion" greeted a young dark-haired woman. Bowing her head as she tugged two children down the road

Everyone they'd come across so far had greeted Tyrion cheerfully. He was well known in the village as a good, fair lord. If any of them were sceptical about having a Lannister as their lord, Tyrion had worked hard to prove he wasn't like his family.

"You're a good lord, you know"

Her brother's face grew red at her words "I'm not sure about that. I try to do what your father and brother would have done – to honour the position"

"You more than honour it. The small folk respect you. Sansa should go into the villages too; she never leaves Winterfell"

"Understandable after all she suffered since leaving here"

"I understand why she's nervous, but I think if she had her way she'd never set foot outside the castle again. If Sansa could get away with it she'd probably keep you locked in Winterfell too"

"She's mentioned us going out riding" said Tyrion, a frown twisting his face "she went out with Gawan once"

"The thought of her alone with him" said Arya, her hands clenching into fists

"I know" said Tyrion, face darkening "the thought of those monsters near Sansa or you..."

Tyrion shook his head to clear the dark thoughts, as Arya's heart stirred at the protectiveness in his tone. Arya had survived years on her own, and in that time she'd often missed the protection only a brother could provide. Wild and deadly as she was a tiny part of her craved that comfort. It was a comfort that had gone North with Jon. As much as she loved Robb and Bran and Rickon – she'd been the closest with Jon. Most likely it was a comfort Tyrion missed too. While she hadn't paid much attention to Jamie when he was at Winterfell, it was obvious when Tyrion spoke of him how he idolised his older brother. It was a feeling she could well relate to with her own brothers.

Jamie was dead. Jon might never return and Bran was something else.

As much as Arya missed them, she still had a brother in Tyrion – and he had a sister in her.

* * *

The oddest spinning sensation enveloped Sansa as she took Bran's hand. One minute she was in the Godswood with her brother, the next she was stood on the outskirts of the village with Winterfell looming in the distance.

"Bran?" she called, seeing no sign of him

The Queen took a deep breath observing her surroundings. She had to trust Bran; there was no other choice. She thought he'd be here with her, but the three-eyed raven had warned bringing her here would use a lot of his focus. The sun was beginning to set and a light snowfall covered the ground, though Sansa felt none of the cold evening. It was a strange experience, everything around her seemed real but there was still a sense of being apart from it.

Sansa was about to move off when she saw him.

The Queen's legs trembled beneath her as Tyrion walked up the path in the direction of Winterfell. Her husband looked weeks from death. Tyrion's face was hollow as his clothes hung limply around his small frame. Golden hair fell lifelessly around his face, and his beard looked no better kept. His familiar green eyes were dull and tired as he walked straight through her.

"Tyrion?" she called, throat tightening

Her husband didn't hear her as he traipsed towards the castle; his prison. Bran's words came to mind, fighting against the shame that surged through her. She was in the past; whatever this was had already happened. Sansa followed after Tyrion, guilt clawing at her heart with each step.

How had she ever believed he was fine?

This Tyrion was before the Wolfswood; of that she was certain. His poor appearance was the product of months of neglect and abuse at her hand. He hadn't been looking after himself and she'd allowed him to carry on in this state; paying no mind to how unwell he clearly was. What kind of wife was she that had been so blind to the poor state of her husband? When Tyrion was sick with winter fever, Maester Wolkan had tried to tell her it was inevitable given his lack of self-care. Only now did she truly appreciate what he meant.

_'Everyone else could see it but you'_ whispered her mind _'look at what you caused'_

Sansa was so focused on Tyrion she didn't notice the two men following them until they stood either side of him. Fear flashed in her husband's eyes as he increased his pace, but it was no use. Sansa was helpless to watch as the two men turned on him.

"Leave him alone" she shouted, as one of the men waved a knife at Tyrion. It was useless - they couldn't hear her. Tyrion tried to escape, but he was easily overpowered.

One was bald with a pointed face; while the other she recognised. Sansa's blood boiled at the sight of Reg. The man had confessed to kidnapping Tyrion, taunting her and Arya with the fact. Now she was forced to watch as her husband was thrown to the snowy ground with the bald man tying his hands behind his back.

"Night, night lord of Winterfell" said the man as Tyrion writhed beneath him.

The Queen flinched as he was struck in the back of the head, ending his struggle. The men laughed as the newly made gash in her husband's head leaked crimson into his golden hair.

Sansa crouched next to Tyrion, reaching her hand out to touch his unconscious face. Her heart twisted as it went straight through. It was then she realised exactly what this was. Bran had warned her that the only help he could give wouldn't be pleasant, but never had she imagined it would be this.

The Queen in the North fought to separate her emotions as the two men gagged Tyrion and carried him away from Winterfell - laughing as they went. A cart was waiting not far away and her husband was thrown in with a thud; as if he was worthless.

"Easy enough job" said Reg, securing a tarp over the cart and hiding Tyrion from view

"You thought kidnapping a dwarf would be hard?" sneered the other man "The way Robin and Gawan talk the Queen might not notice her imp's gone for a week"

Reg snorted "Aye, he'll be dead by then"

The scene around Sansa began to change as the cart trundled off, taking Tyrion away from his home and towards the Wolfswood - towards the suffering that awaited him there.

Coldness spread through Sansa as the world morphed around her. She was going to see the horror her husband endured first hand - and be powerless to stop it.

* * *

Ser Davos massaged his temple as he felt another headache building. Sansa had kindly given them a room to use for meetings so they could continue working while they were at Winterfell - not that anything was actually getting done.

"Can we please focus on getting through some of this work?" he tried again

"Why? Is the King working?" asked Bronn, tilting back in his chair

"King Bran is busy in the Godswood today and isn't to be disturbed - as you well know" said Brienne

"What could he be doing in there that he hasn't done every day since we got to this shithole of a place?"

Ser Davos sighed "Family business that's nothing to do with us. Whatever he's doing he is King and we serve him. Satisfied?"

"No, not really. You know what would satisfy me right now; a woman" said Bronn, gazing around the table

"Don't look at me" said Brienne crossing her arms

"Not if you were the last woman alive" snorted Bronn "we both know I aint blonde enough for ya - and I've got one too many hands"

They'd been sat here for half an hour and already Davos suspected it was too long. The hand of the King badge on his tunic was woefully unassuming considering the burden it carried. At least in Kings Landing he had Samwell as back-up. Brienne was easy enough to work with, but her and Bronn together were a nightmare from one of the seven hells.

Brienne's jaw tensed as she stared across at the sellsword "Don't take it out on me because lord Tyrion won't play with you anymore"

"I don't give a shit about the grumpy little bastard" said Bronn, a scowl curving over his face

Ser Davos wondered if it was too early to start drinking. Any hope of completing some work had gone out the window with the mention of Jamie and Tyrion.

"I'm not surprised he wants nothing to do with you" said Brienne, eyes narrowing "threatening to kill him all because his sister waved a bag of gold in front of you"

"Don't pretend you care about the little shit" said Bronn, jabbing his finger towards the lord commander "we all know you're only upset 'cause I threatened your precious Jamie"

"If Sansa had known you'd came here and threatened anyone she would have had you killed"

"Enough!" said Ser Davos glancing between the two of them "whatever happened is in the past. In the present we all have duties to do"

"You're right" agreed Brienne, taking a breath "We're all sworn to the same King now"

"Right, the priority needs to be filling the empty seats. Highgarden and Casterly Rock are the biggest to fill. Any suggestions?" asked Davos, his eyes wandering over the lists stacked before him.

Many of the more experienced lords had been killed in both areas. Minor houses had been wiped out completely through years of war, leaving the task of filling major seats even more difficult. For months Davos had poured over potential lords with Samwell. Whenever they found someone possibly well suited the King would void their suggestion – as if he knew something about that candidate no-one else did.

"What about bringing in lords from other areas? Highgarden in particular needs experienced hands as it's one of the main food sources in Westeros" suggested Brienne

"I've looked at it, but minor lords are unlikely to accept an outsider"

"Give Casterly Rock back to Tyrion" said Bronn, examining his fingernails

Ser Davos wondered if it was too late to go beyond the wall with Jon; surely there were no small council meetings there.

Brienne heaved out a sigh "You were there the other night when Bran made that offer to lord Tyrion. He refused"

"Aye, but I reckon he's not in his right mind"

The lord of the Twins leaned forward in his seat to explain his theory and the Kings hand knew any hope of work was dead. Brienne was eyeing Bronn with suspicion, but she was clearly intrigued by his statement too.

"Why do you think that?" asked Davos, taking the bait

"The other day I saw him helping this old bloke shovelling dog shit out of the kennels" said Bronn, eyes widening "you ever seen a Lannister do physical labour?"

"Arya told me he often does that" said Brienne "from what I've seen lord Tyrion is well liked by the Winterfell household and the small folk"

"Then there's how quiet he is. Barely says a bloody word"

"He is quieter" conceded Davos

Bronn spread his hands "The North has fucked him right up. He doesn't drink, he barely talks, he-"

"loves Sansa and Arya" finished Brienne, adding softly "he's happy here"

"How can he be happy? You heard what happened in the Wolfswood. Those bastards near killed him and they're still out there"

"The Queen's got most of the North hunting them down" said Davos

"Aint found them, have they? You can't deny how different he is since he came up here. Poor bastard's like a beaten dog; he should come back south with us"

Brienne arched an eyebrow incredulously "What would you have us do – kidnap him from his bed? Bran offered, and Tyrion refused. This is his home, as he told us"

"He doesn't know what he wants. Needs a stiff drink and a nice whore if you ask me"

"No-one asked you" said Brienne "and lord Tyrion is married – quite happily by the looks of it"

Ser Davos nodded "Brienne's got the right of it. No denying he suffered horrendously, but it's clear enough he wants to stay"

"There aint nothing for him up here. He always wanted Casterly Rock and now he can have it" said Bronn

"Some things are more important than castles" said Brienne "surely you've seen how Sansa and Arya act around him? He has a family here"

"True enough" added Ser Davos, turning to the former sellsword "you want to tell the Queen your taking her husband south whether he wants to go or not?"

Bronn looked between them, a scowl twisting his face. As annoying as the master of coin could often be, Davos liked him well enough. Since coming to Winterfell he'd grown moody, and it was undoubtedly linked to Tyrion's reaction to him – a fact that puzzled Ser Davos. If Bronn was so concerned for his friend why hadn't he tried to help him in Kings Landing? Brienne appeared to be having a similiar thought. Her face softened as she looked at Bronn.

"Have you considered apologising to Tyrion?" she said "If you feel that guilty-"

"Guilty for what?" snapped Bronn "I did nothin to him"

"Who are you trying to fool?" asked Brienne, brow furrowing "Just apologise to your friend"

"You heard him; we were never friends" said Bronn, hand curling into a fist

Ser Davos decided it certainly wasn't too early for wine, as Bronn and Brienne locked horns again. They were two of the most stubborn people he'd ever met, and he'd met the young lady Mormont.

"If you're not his friend and you really don't care, then what does it matter to you if Tyrion stays in the North?" asked Brienne, daring the master of coin to argue

"I don't give a shit what he does. He can stay here and get eaten by the wolves for all I care"

"It sounds like you care rather a lot"

That it turned out was crossing the line. You could accuse Bronn of being a thief, a liar and a man without honour - but don't accuse him of caring.

At Brienne's words, Bronn leapt to his feet; dark eyes glaring at them both as if daring them to stop him leaving.

"Where are you going?" asked Ser Davos, tapping his shortened fingers against the table

"Had enough of all you miserable shits and the bloody North. I'm gonna find a woman, a warm bed and plenty of drink"

"You're master of coin. You have a duty to Bran" reminded Brienne

"Aye, I do. The King who's sitting in the Godswood dreaming. If he wants to get rid of me, he can take it up with me himself"

The lord of the Twins swept from the room, the door banging shut behind him. Brienne slumped in her seat, a sigh escaping her.

"Ser Davos, I apologise. I shouldn't allow him to get to me like that"

"It's fine" said Davos sinking in his chair "he's been building up to that since we got here. He'd have gone off sooner or later"

"I'll explain to Bran if you like"

Ser Davos shook his head, feeling older than he truly was "I'm his hand – it's up to me. Knowing Bran he'll probably have already seen it"

* * *

Why did Sansa think she would be able to distance herself from what was happening to Tyrion?

When she realised what she was going to see the Queen resolved to push her own emotions down and lock them away – to focus on what she was doing here. It was impossible. Every time Sansa looked at her husband guilt tightened around her throat like a noose.

Now she crouched beside Tyrion as he sawed his hands against the rough wooden post to sever the rope. Never in all her life had she felt more helpless. She'd listened to Robin and Gawan mocking her husband; heard their plan to kill Tyrion and let Robin marry her.

_'The Queen's pet lion'_ they'd called him. It was true wasn't it? That's all she'd treated him as - even the other lords could see it.

She'd tried to punch Robin's smirking face; her hand sailing straight through him. Sansa wanted nothing more than to beat them both bloody with her own hands. As much as she hated it, Robin's words were true. If Tyrion had died her council would have married her off – most likely to him.

Sansa had no idea what she was supposed to learn from this, other than how badly she'd failed Tyrion. Her husband was so clearly unwell – how had she missed it? The green eyes she loved so much were swimming in the self-loathing and insecurities she'd spent the past weeks trying to vanquish.

"Bran!" she shouted, hoping to find her brother

What was she supposed to do? She'd agreed to this assuming Bran would be here to guide her. Sansa had no idea what she was supposed to be looking for, and it was abundantly clear she could do nothing but watch. The Queen sank onto the ground next to her husband as his attention turned to the barn - and the wary face of a woman peeking through a broken panel of it.

Part of her wondered if she should have followed after Robin and Gawan, but how could she leave her husband? Instead she listened as Tyrion and Rose spoke; pride filling her as he plotted their escape. He was a good man, a brave man; despite what he thought of himself. A true lord of Winterfell.

If Tyrion knew what saving the wildings would cost him; would he still do it? Sansa longed to warn him - beg him to save himself and escape. It was a foolish hope. This was the past, and Tyrion wouldn't leave them to their fate. They were innocent children and women and for all her husband believed himself a monster Sansa knew that couldn't be further from the truth. Deep in her heart she knew Tyrion would still make the same choice even if he knew the pain it would cause him. In Kings Landing she'd seen first-hand who he truly was. Among all the knights and nobles that filled the court, he was the only one who'd defended her - and she'd betrayed him horribly.

"I'm sorry" she told him "this is all my fault"

* * *

It had been years since Bran Stark could feel his legs, and now he couldn't feel anything apart from the crippling pain in his head. Using his power to bring Sansa to the past had proven to be a rather large mistake. The old Gods had brought them to witness the capture of Tyrion Lannister and then his arrival in the Wolfswood.

The three-eyed raven hadn't been sure this would work at all, despite what he told Sansa. The old Gods were less than happy at what he was doing. Their power was tugging Sansa from his grasp and blocking him from joining her.

It shouldn't be this difficult. Bran had expected to feel a certain strain on his powers, but not like this. Almost as soon as he flew the old Gods had caged him, removing Sansa from his grasp and into their own. He could see what was happening, but he couldn't be there with his sister. Sansa was by her husband as he sat tied to a post outside the barn. Gawan had hold of Tyrion now; forcing his face into a bowl of slop he was supposed to eat.

It was arrogance to think his powers could subvert the will of the old Gods in their home. Tyrion was their champion; not the three-eyed raven. The Weirwoods were mostly gone in the south, rendering the old gods powerless; that wasn't the case in the north however. In Kings Landing the three-eyed raven's power seemed limitless – his current situation was tearing that belief to shreds.

A jolt of pain ran through Bran as Sansa's emotions spiked. The Queen had made several attempts at stopping the humiliation of her husband, all to no avail as her strikes passed harmlessly through Gawan.

Bran Stark had wanted to help his family, and this was the only possible chance he had to do it. The old Gods had allowed him to bring Sansa to the past, but now their power clamped around him holding him prisoner.

They would allow Sansa to see; to gain the information she would need - but it would be on their terms.

His father had often said the North was a harsh, unforgiving place. Sansa was being both helped and punished and Bran could offer her no support. If he was there he could encourage her to focus and see past what was being done to Tyrion – but all he could do now was watch.

Bran suspected he was guilty of a great many things, and would be guilty of far more before he left the North. One such thing was underestimating the love his sister had for her husband.

The Queen of ice might have been able to remain impartial; to see things objectively. It was a skill Bran had been depending on when he considered this plan.

The ice Queen was dead however. A broken shield that could no longer hide Sansa Stark from the truth she'd long been blind to. Guilt was drowning Sansa and if she didn't push through it this whole exercise would give her nothing but pain.

_'Sansa, focus!'_ he shouted as the power of the old Gods crushed the three-eyed raven.

* * *

On more than one occasion Sansa had wished Tyrion had left the girls to their fate in the Wolfswood and saved himself. It was a selfish thought; one that went against every value she'd been taught growing up. Sansa was never proud when the dark thought drifted through her mind, but she was downright ashamed when she watched Tyrion help them escape. Truthfully she'd paid very little attention to them over the few days they remained at Winterfell; her mind consumed with her husband.

Now Sansa watched as girls as young as four and ten were led silently from the barn and into the thick canopy of trees that surrounded the area. Most were wildlings – not her subjects and not under her protection. It was impossible to tell who the few girls from the villages were and who the wildlings were however. They were all just children and young women; frightened and far from home as she had once been. Slave collars were fastened around their necks and it was apparent some had been held prisoner there for many weeks while the Queen did nothing.

Sansa tried to focus instead on Tyrion. She'd watched as he killed a guard and began the escape. The free folk rarely trusted anyone south of the wall, but Rose had put her trust in Tyrion. The wildling woman followed his plan to the letter, hanging back with him as the last few girls escaped.

_'This is the past'_ she reminded herself as guards emerged from the farmhouse and discovered the escape. It didn't matter, Sansa's heart pounded just as frantically as if she was there. The Queen raced through the Wolfswood with her husband, watching as the guards caught up to them.

_'It's already happened_' she thought, biting her lip as Tyrion turned to rescue a young girl – and chose to stay behind. It was a decision that would cause him so much pain.

For all she'd once admired Loras Tyrell, Sansa now thought the boy looked pitiful compared to her husband. Tyrion was a true lion as he battled the guards, awkwardly swinging a sword that was clearly too big for him. The fighting was brutal and deadly. Her heart crawled up her throat as one of the men sliced her husband's upper arm, unleashing a river of blood that soaked his tunic. She recognised him as one of Tyrion's kidnappers – Reg's friend. It was satisfying when Tyrion killed him.

Two men were dead and the third was dying with his severed leg beside him. Voices sounded in the distance that warned of the reinforcements to come. Tyrion should be running to escape – why wasn't he trying to escape?

"Run Tyrion!" she shouted, to absolutely no effect

Her husband stumbled towards the dying man, severing his head as reinforcements poured into the Wolfswood. The man was dying – why waste time making sure he was dead?

It was as the guards began to search the Wolfswood following the most obvious paths Sansa realised why Tyrion had made sure their three pursuers were dead. Only Tyrion would now know which way the girls had gone – down a long forgotten path the enemy was unlikely to find.

Sansa was so distracted with the search she turned to find her husband hanging limply between a group of guards as a fist crashed into his face.

"Should just kill him now" growled one of the men, looking at their fallen comrades "he killed 'em all"

"The lords will want him" spoke a gruff older man "take the little beast back while we get the women"

"He's not a beast!" shouted Sansa, her heart thumping in her chest as she took in the sight of the man she loved hanging unconscious between the guards.

They dragged him carelessly back through the Wolfswood with Sansa following next to Tyrion. She reached out to brush a hand against his exhausted face, anger curling through her as it went straight through.

It wasn't fair. Why had Bran brought her here? She couldn't do anything; she couldn't change any of this. She couldn't even comfort her husband.

_'You never brought him any comfort before'_ hissed her mind _'look at the state of him; no wonder he didn't want to go back to his prison in Winterfell...'_

"Bran!" she tried again, gaining no response

Tyrion was dragged back into the camp and dumped in a heap of snow at the feet of Robin and Gawan. The young lord Flint's face curled in distaste.

"He's caused quite the problem"

"If you'd let me play with him this wouldn't have happened" said Gawan, nudging the lord of Winterfell with his foot

Robin rubbed his chin "Sansa's pet isn't as docile as we thought"

"The little bastard killed Duke. He killed our men" growled Reg. The large man was as stupid as Sansa remembered from their brief conversation. He was looking between Robin and Gawan as if he honestly expected them to care about his now dead friend.

Robin's face twisted into a smile "I had no plans to harm lord Tyrion, but I think a punishment is in order, don't you Gawan?"

The wild boy's eyes brightened "Yes! He messed up our plans for the day"

Sansa's stomach lurched as she watched her former friends eyeing Tyrion like a piece of meat. She could have been wed to either of them. The Queen screwed her eyes shut, sinking onto the ground next to her fallen husband.

If not for Tyrion she would have married a monster. Possible futures with Robin or Gawan as her husband raced through her mind, each more gruesome than the last. The fear of another Ramsay had compelled her to force the marriage with Tyrion; a man she trusted. Every mistreatment of Tyrion she'd rationalised as for the good of the North; it wasn't. It had all been done to protect herself and in doing so she'd hurt the person she should have been protecting.

"You should hate me" said Sansa, wrapping her arms around herself as she sat beside Tyrion

The Queen was so lost in her own failings; she almost missed the slightest whisper that brushed against her mind.

_'Sansa, focus!'_

"Bran?" she said, jerking back to alertness

Time had moved rapidly on as she sat there. The sun was beginning to creep up in the distance as her husband stirred to life beside her.

Focus. She had to focus. Sansa rose to her feet, annoyed with herself. Her brother had warned her the past couldn't be changed, she was here for a reason. Sansa moved slightly away from the bench, observing the scene from the side. Reg and another man pulled Tyrion to his feet, holding him upright between them. The guilt and regret tearing at her heart would have to wait. Dwelling on it now was a distraction. Emotion was dangerous in the game of thrones.

Sansa Stark had just about got her Queenly mask in place when Gawan began slicing the clothes off Tyrion. Distant. She had to remain distant - it was the only way to survive this.

"Would killing me not be easier?" said Tyrion as he was left in only his breeches

Gods. Tyrion looked almost skeletal without his tunic. She should have noticed he wasn't eating properly. Despite her resolve to remain distant, Sansa found herself edging closer to her husband. An all too familiar shamed burned in his eyes as his body was exposed to them. The blood soaked clothes and a handful of golden hair now sat to one side. It would be packaged up and sent towards the Kings Road before Arya intercepted it.

"Look at his back! Someone's taught him a lesson"

The guards lifted Tyrion, forcing him chest down on the bench where Robin sat. Laughter rang out from the group as they prodded the lash marks that covered his back.

"Stop laughing" she warned, throat tightening "stop laughing at him!"

It was no use; Sansa couldn't change the past - however much she wanted to. Robin was talking to Tyrion now as a slave collar was tightened around his neck. Her gaze followed Gawan as he retrieved a pot of hot metal from the nearby fire.

"I could melt your face with this" said Gawan, excitement dancing in his eyes as he shoved the pot near Tyrion "burn your eyes, dip your fingers in and watch them melt - but I have other orders"

Her husband squirmed on the bench but couldn't escape as the collar was sealed shut around his neck.

"Doesn't that look good?" purred Gawan, patting his back as if he was a dog

Bile crawled up the Queens's throat as the scene unfolded before her. Monsters. Who were they to degrade the lord of Winterfell? Gawan had moved off after sealing the collar and Sansa moved closer to the bench. Robin was unfolding a piece of paper, showing it to Tyrion as he remained trapped on the bench.

Was this what she was meant to see? Sansa hurried forwards, eager to examine the paper for whatever clue it may hold. Her brow furrowed at the image drawn on it. She'd seen it somewhere before…

The realisation came to Sansa just as she turned to see Gawan positioning himself behind Tyrion.

"No!" she begged, horror filling her eyes at what was about to happen

The young lord Glover wore a wicked grin on his face as he pushed the hot iron into the back of Tyrion's shoulder. Her husband writhed at the contact, but the guards were pinning him too tightly to the bench. He was helpless to escape as Gawan branded him.

Tyrion trembled silently on the bench as the men laughed at the mark now permanently etched into his shoulder.

Sansa wasn't silent. A scream tore from her throat as the last vestiges of her icy walls shattered.

* * *

"Doggy!"

"Silly Ethan - Lyon's a wolf!" corrected Nessa, as her younger brother grinned widely at the direwolf

A smile tugged at Tyrion's mouth as he watched the children pet Lyon. He'd promised Nessa he would bring Lyon to see her mother and brother when he had recovered. Aside from that he wanted to thank them for their kindness when he was hurt. The stuffed lion toy the children had given him for his name day continued to sit proudly on his drawers.

He'd only planned a quick visit to collect his squire, but Tess had insisted on him and Arya joining them for refreshment.

As much as he trusted Lyon, Tyrion wasn't entirely sure how patient the wolf would be with children. While Lyon knew Nessa and was very friendly with her, he'd worried how the direwolf would react to strangers. It seemed there was little to fear, if Lyon sensed no threat he was perfectly happy to accept any attention. Even now the golden wolf held his head high as Nessa instructed her little brother on how to rub behind his ears in the way he liked best.

"I'm glad to see you've recovered so well Tyrion" said Tess, sinking into a chair opposite him and Arya. He'd long ago insisted she forgo the titles.

"Yes. It's nice to get out of the castle again" he agreed "I owe you my thanks. The bread cake you sent, and the children's gift…it meant a lot to me"

The woman smiled warmly "It was our pleasure. You're always welcome here"

Some of the tension that had clung to Tyrion since leaving Winterfell had eased since entering Tess's warm home. It was only a small house, but the family love that resided there washed over him whenever he visited. Tess still appeared in poor health, but the adoration in her eyes when she watched her children hid any frailty.

"Lyon loves the attention" said Arya, raising an eyebrow at the satisfied looking wolf

"I fear his head may no longer fit in the castle"

"He's very well-behaved" said Tess "Nessa said he was friendly, but I was a bit sceptical"

Arya smirked, reaching for her drink "He's friendly to everyone but Sansa"

"Yes, they do have an interesting relationship" said Tyrion

The conversation continued around him, but Tyrion found his attention drawn to Arya. He'd asked her to accompany him in the hopes of lifting her mood, yet as soon as they left the castle he'd needed her help. Truthfully, Tyrion hadn't expected returning to the village to cause him so much unease. Walking down the path where he'd been kidnapped had sent his heart racing, his mind urging him to return to safety. Arya had been perfectly patient even as his guilt bubbled to the surface.

It was a niggling thought in the back of his mind that had grown louder the last few weeks as he returned to his duties as lord of Winterfell. Sansa and Arya had worked tirelessly to bring justice to those who hurt him. Most of the North was hunting them down. So much of their time had been taken up with caring for him…the guilt grew heavier just thinking about it.

This particular guilt had come out with Sansa on occasion, though she was quick to soothe his insecurities. However, on this matter it was Arya who had put things in perspective. The younger Stark was blunt in a way Sansa wasn't. Everything Arya had said was true. If he wasn't here, Sansa would have likely married Robin - who'd been undermining her reign from the beginning.

The idea of Sansa being married to either of those creatures sent a shudder through him. Tyrion hated being a burden or dependent on anyone; his family had always made sure he knew what an inconvenience he was. The Wolfswood had left him utterly helpless, but there was nothing he could do about it. Accepting that was difficult. For so many weeks he'd blamed himself for all of it. The capture, failing to escape - he blamed himself for every injury he suffered.

Yet, now he wondered…was it his fault?

Sansa and Arya had never blamed him. No-one had.

Why was he blaming himself, for something he had no control over? He hadn't wanted to be kidnapped or tortured. He'd done his best to escape.

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards as his hand closed around the object in his pocket. The Starks had given him so much. For weeks Sansa had tried to make amends, showering him with love and affection. It had taken time but she'd worked her way through his walls and into his heart; a place very few had ever entered. That he cared for Sansa was never in question; allowing himself to fall in love with her was a different matter entirely.

As impossible as it seemed Sansa Stark loved him; and he believed her. Tyrion loved her too. It was difficult to express - doubt and self-loathing continuously dripped their poison into his mind. But Tyrion wanted to show Sansa how he felt as freely as she did. Hopefully his plan would express what he'd struggled to put into words.

* * *

As she sat in the stables watching her husband shiver beside her, Sansa found herself regretting all the time she'd spent dutifully praying in her youth. The Gods were cruel; why else would she be forced to watch this unending horror without any chance of changing it?

Tyrion had been dragged off to the stables after they branded him, the collar around his neck chained to the wall and his hands chained to the ground in front of him. Never in her life had she felt more helpless as Tyrion tugged against his restraints in frustration, shame flooding his eyes.

_'He's used to being property. He's just changed owner - from Sansa to us'_

Gawan's words repeated through her mind, a deep shame swelling in her chest. Everyone had seen how poorly she'd treated Tyrion - everyone but her.

Her husband trembled next to her, his body shuddering as he tried to move. The bright red mark on his shoulder was a horrific sight; Sansa couldn't begin to imagine the pain it caused. The slash on his arm had finally stopped bleeding but gaped open in need of medical attention. His breath frosted in the air as he shivered against the cold. All day he'd been given no food or water. Tyrion tried to lean back against the wall, accidentally brushing the burn. A jolt went through him but his restraints made it impossible to move. He screwed his eyes shut, the faintest whisper coming from his trembling form.

"Jamie, please…"

What remained of Sansa's heart cracked at his plea. She would give anything to comfort him; to hold him against her and keep him safe. It was far too late for any of that. This Tyrion knew nothing of her love; only her cruelty. The shock and agony of what had been done to him had caused him to ask for the only comfort he'd ever known - and it wasn't her.

The Queen drew in a shuddering breath, dampness gathering in her eyes. They'd been sat here for several hours and in that time she'd examined every inch of her husband, forcing herself to memorise every detail of his abused body. From the dark shadows that hung under his eyes, to his malnourished form. Robin and Gawan's mistreatment had added to it, but this was her doing.

Footsteps crunching through the snow drew her attention as it did Tyrion's. The smirking faces of Robin and Gawan appeared at the end of the stall, though Robin's eyes were dark with annoyance.

"I need something from you" said Robin

Despite the haunted look in his eyes, Tyrion straightened in his restraints "You want my breeches too?"

"Our men have been searching the Wolfswood for the slaves and found no trace of them"

"Did your men get confused? One tree looks very much like the other after all"

Pride ignited in Sansa as her husband refused to cower before his captors, brushing aside their attempts to intimidate him as easily as swatting a fly. Tyrion's defiance was neither angry nor threatening. It held a quiet strength and dignity. They may have control in the situation, but Tyrion was still the most powerful man in the room; he would not bend to them.

Sansa forced herself to focus on Robin and Gawan as they conversed. There had to be something she was meant to see.

"You have a choice lord of Winterfell. You can tell me now what directions you gave them and where they're hiding – or I'll let Gawan take the answers from you. I had planned on keeping you in one piece for your execution" said Robin, shrugging "but I don't care much either way"

Robin was good at hiding his emotions. He was acting as though this was a minor inconvenience, but his sharp face had tightened throughout the conversation, betraying his anger. It was Gawan that truly turned her stomach. He was positively beaming at the prospect of hurting Tyrion.

Despite the indignity of his position, Tyrion's gaze was unflinching as he stared at the two boys "I am the lord of Winterfell, and they are slaves no longer"

Tears slipped from Sansa's eyes at his answer as Gawan bounced into the stall. She leaned closer to Tyrion, whispering in his ear "You are sweetheart - a true lord of Winterfell. I'm so proud of you"

This was all for a duty Tyrion hadn't wanted. He'd begged to not marry her, but she'd forced him to be her husband and carry the burden that came with it. Regardless of how he felt about it, Tyrion had accepted his duty and he would see it through until the bitter end.

The mask of gallantry Gawan had worn when trying to gain Sansa's favour was completely gone as he prodded the brand on Tyrion's shoulder. His eyes were filled with a cruelty she'd seen only twice before; Joffrey and Ramsay.

"I've been waiting for this" he said, grinning at Tyrion as he lifted a small hammer "I don't think breaking you will take long, so we'll start small. What about your fingers?"

Sansa's heart lurched as Gawan grasped hold of her husbands chained left hand, forcing it flat against the floor. The boy brought the hammer over the hand, teasing the edge of it against his fingers.

"We only need a location Tyrion" said Robin, spreading his hands as he stood at the gate "there's no need to suffer"

Tyrion remained silent, his mouth pressing into a tight line as he braced for the pain to come. He didn't wait long as Gawan brought the hammer down on Tyrion's little finger – the snap sounding in the stall. Tyrion didn't react, though his face tightened.

"Sure you don't want to tell us?" teased Gawan, moving the hammer to the next finger

Silence filled the air, followed by another snap as the next finger was broken. Sansa flinched at the brutality, though her husband appeared to be withdrawing into his mind - the distant look on his face was one she'd often seen as he recovered. He wouldn't tell them what they wanted. Gawan's mouth turned downwards, annoyed at the lack of reaction.

"Why so quiet little lion? Are you pretending to be a wolf?" mocked Gawan, pressing down on the broken fingers, and still failing to elicit a response

Robin's face had twisted into a deep frown, glaring at Tyrion with contempt "This doesn't have to be personal. Tell us where you sent our slaves and you can die a clean death"

Still Tyrion said nothing, though his eyes narrowed on the young lord.

"I doubt Sansa's noticed you've gone, but I hope Arya comes looking for you – she can join the fun too"

"Let's hope so" said Gawan, flexing his hand "little bitch still needs punishing for that damned fork through my fingers"

"They won't come" said Tyrion, a flicker of sadness crossing his face "you won't be able to hurt them"

Robin sneered "You're right – who would come for you anyway? If we can't hurt them, I'll settle for hurting you. Gawan's very excited to play with his new pet. Sooner or later you'll tell us everything we want"

The lord of Widows Watch nodded once to his friend before leaving the stables. Sansa was dimly aware of Gawan taunting her husband as he lifted the hammer again, but her mind was locked on what she'd just heard.

Her vision blurred as she reached out to touch Tyrion's face. A strangled sob breaking from her throat as her hand once again passed through him. Had he really endured all this pain, believing no-one was looking for him? That they didn't care for him? Tyrion's face was a grim mask; refusing to give his tormentors any satisfaction. Sansa knew him though. His green eyes held such a deep resignation, Sansa knew he did believe it.

"It's not true" she said, begging him to hear her "I love you Tyrion. I'd do anything for you"

His face contorted briefly in pain as another crack reverberated around the stables. Sansa whipped her head around to see Gawan grinning cheerfully as he prepared to bring the hammer down again on Tyrion's left hand. The heir to Deepwood Motte had unchained the limb, pinning it beneath him as he struck it with the hammer. Damage that would take weeks of agonising recovery.

On and on it went. Sansa didn't think she'd ever be able to unhear the crunching and snapping as Gawan mangled Tyrion's arm.

"Come on Lannister; I want to hear you roar!"

Sansa's heart snapped along with her husband's wrist. Not a sound left Tyrion, though the little colour he had drained away.

"Don't touch him!" growled Sansa as Gawan grasped her husband's face, a glint of madness in his eyes

"Aren't you a good little lord - trying to be as stoic and silent as the Starks. It won't work. You're not a Northerner, and you're not a wolf. You're a lonely little lion far from home. No-one in Westeros wanted you and no-one in the North wants you"

Sobs wracked Sansa's body as she was forced to observe the scene. Tyrion wouldn't break for them, refusing to let their torture garner any response from him. As much as he was hiding his emotions, he couldn't ignore their cruel words. Sansa had heard Tyrion belittle himself many times, and the depths of his self-hatred often shocked her. That Tyrion thought so poorly of himself broke her heart, but hearing others mock him ignited a fierce protectiveness in her. For all he pretended not to care, Sansa had come to realise Tyrion wanted to be liked and loved. It was a basic kindness that had always been denied him.

_'You didn't love him; you used him – just like everyone else'_ whispered the voice of Cersei Lannister _'you're a Queen and he's nothing. Leave him'_

"No!" said Sansa, her chest tightening as she turned to Tyrion "I love you. I won't ever leave you, I promise"

* * *

"Are you the lord of Winterfell?"

Arya could feel Tyrion stiffen at her side at the question – though she doubted he was in any danger from the small boy who asked it. After visiting Nessa's family, Tyrion had asked for his squire's help with his plan. The young girl had lit up at his request and quickly gone off to make the arrangements. Her and Tyrion had called in to see Esther after that and were on their way to the inn when a group of children playing on some fallen logs had stopped their games to watch them; whispering and pointing at Tyrion. There were about ten children in the group; a mixture of boys and girls ranging in age from about five to nine.

It was a boy of about eight with black curly hair who'd asked the question. Bolder than his friends, he'd stepped towards them halting their walk.

"I am" said Tyrion, shifting uneasily

The boy's face brightened "You're Tyrion Lannister"

"That's right" he said "Who might you be?"

"I'm Ben" said the boy, glancing back at his friends

This appeared to be some unspoken signal that it was safe to approach for the rest of the children moved forwards as well, huddling behind Ben. They were all wearing a mismatch of breeches and various pieces of heavy clothing covered in damp patches from the snow they'd been playing it. Tyrion was eyeing the children warily, and it occurred to Arya he was expecting them to laugh at him.

Lyon moved forwards sniffing at the children.

"Is that a direwolf?" asked Ben, eyes widening as the wolf stared at him

"Yes, his name's Lyon" said Tyrion

"Is he yours?"

Tyrion nodded, and the boy gazed at the golden wolf in wonder.

"Are you married to the Queen?" asked a younger girl, twisting her hands nervously

Tyrion offered her a smile "I am"

The children were not going to mock Tyrion, of that Arya was certain.

"Never met a lord before" mumbled another boy, before panic settled over his face "We should have bowed!"

At that the children broke into a frantic bobbing off heads.

"There's no need for that" said Tyrion, a small laugh escaping him at the sight

"Mother says you gotta bow to the lords or they'll have your head" said the red haired boy, his eyes wandering to the sword on Tyrion's hip

"Some lords perhaps, though I'm not in the habit of removing heads"

The children relaxed somewhat, but their eyes were filled with curiosity as they stared at Tyrion.

Arya nudged her brother, whispering in his ear "I think they have questions for you"

Tyrion swallowed thickly, nodding "It appears so"

It was obvious enough to Arya the children were only curious about the Queen's husband, but Tyrion had lived his life expecting to be the subject of mockery. To Arya this was a good opportunity to erase some of his old fears, and make him see the respect the small folk had for him. Tyrion was well-liked by the small folk, however much he doubted it. The children's curiosity was only natural too. Unlike the Northern lords who lived and grew up in the area, Tyrion was from the Westerlands.

Arya glanced around the area, spying the fallen logs where the children had been playing.

"Do you have questions for lord Tyrion?" she asked the children

They all nodded, some more nervously than others. She threw her arm around Tyrion's shoulders steering him towards the logs. The lord of Winterfell shot her a nervous glance, but she patted his shoulder reassuringly. This would be good for all of them. The children would get to know their Lannister lord and Tyrion would hopefully see how accepted he was in the North. Too few lords left their castles, and Sansa never did.

Tyrion was already well-known in the villages. Letting the children get to know him too would only be a good thing. One day they would be the petitioners seeing him in court.

The children followed in a small herd, whispering amongst themselves as she steered her brother onto one of the logs.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered "I don't want to frighten them..."

Arya snorted "You're about as scary as you are tall. Just be yourself"

The children had gathered around them as Lyon trotted to Tyrion's side. The lord of Winterfell appeared to be considering her words, nodding once to her before turning to the children.

"Would you like to ask me anything?"

* * *

A blanket.

While her husband was tortured and degraded by two men she'd trusted – Sansa had sat making him a blanket, in case he was cold when he got back.

A laugh escaped Sansa – how naive she'd been. Since Tyrion had been returned to her she'd coaxed bits and pieces of his suffering from him; listening sympathetically and giving him as much reassurance as she could. Every time Tyrion shared something with her she considered it a small victory. Whether it was a throw away comment or her husband confessing what he'd seen in his nightmare, Sansa thought she had a fairly good picture of what had happened in the Wolfswood.

How wrong she was.

The few words Tyrion spared for his suffering did nothing to describe the true horror.

He'd been left alone after Gawan broke his hand and wrist, shivering violently from the cold and pain. Sansa had stayed by his side as a guard forced some water down his throat and the daylight faded away. Snow had fluttered down outside the stables as darkness fell over the Wolfswood.

That was when Gawan came. When she heard Gawan humming the rains of Castamere, Sansa knew what was coming. It was one of the few things Tyrion had shared with her after she woke him from a terrible nightmare. Hearing Tyrion describe it in a few words and seeing the horror unfold were two completely different things however.

Tyrion had been right all those months ago when he'd said Gawan was like Joffrey. That his victim was refusing to react had infuriated the boy to the point where he'd threatened to mutilate her husband. Even hours later she could hear the vile threats as the boy pushed the tip of his blade against her husband's manhood.

_"You're making this difficult dwarf. I might need to take more extreme measures"_

_"As you wish"_

_"Think I'll cut your cock off. Maybe your balls instead" Gawan had said, running his knife over her husband's breeches "or maybe both. Weren't you friends with the eunuch? You could be one too"_

Until her dying day, Sansa knew she would never forget this. There was an inhuman pain in watching the one you loved suffering – and being helpless to stop it. Sansa thought she knew pain and suffering but what was that compared to seeing your husband's face being carved open? The slash on his arm had been cut into as well, deepening the injury.

Eventually Gawan had tired of tormenting Tyrion, a child-like pout covering his face as he left the stall. Her husband was lolling to one side in his restraints, blood dripping from his face and onto his chest. He didn't cry, or shout or react. He simply sat there, shame flooding his green eyes as he awaited death.

Sansa cried for him, wrapping her arms around herself. What was she supposed to do in this hell? Nothing around her could be changed; she could offer Tyrion no comfort. Eventually daylight had crept into the stall once more, a chorus of birds chirping outside as more snow fluttered to the ground.

"Come to laugh at me too?" whispered Tyrion "I don't mind, I'm used to it"

At the sound of Tyrion's voice Sansa jolted to attention, her eyes flying to her husband.

"Tyrion?" she asked

For a moment Sansa had thought Tyrion could see her, but his gaze was focused on a raven peering into the stall. The bird merely tilted its head as Sansa slumped back beside her husband. He was terribly pale, agony and exhaustion warring for control of him as he gave a half-hearted shuffle in his restraints.

"Shh love, I'm here" she whispered, reaching for his hand only to pass through him once more

Angry tears burned at her eyes at her complete failure to comfort her husband. The raven cawed on the post and something inside Sansa was drawn to it, as if it were a familiar sound. She looked at the raven, noticing this time it wasn't normal – it had three eyes.

"Bran?" she asked, scrambling forwards

"Sansa" he croaked, as if every word pained him "can't change this...focus...see"

"Where are you? I don't want to be here anymore" she said "please, help me"

"Old Gods...can't" the raven croaked, twisting its neck from side to side "...your own"

The raven's neck snapped violently to one side and when its gaze returned to watch Tyrion it was an ordinary bird – no third eye. Sansa sank to the ground rejoining her husband.

She was on her own. Whatever had happened to Bran it seemed he wouldn't be coming to help her. The Queen screwed her eyes shut swallowing down all the pain and guilt that so easily consumed her. Bran was right; she had to focus. There was something she had to see and crying helplessly next to Tyrion was wasting time.

Her heart and mind were at war. Logically, Sansa knew there was nothing she could do – this was the past. Yet her heart didn't want to leave Tyrion alone. For so many weeks she'd left him to suffer in silence; ignoring how unwell he obviously was. The Queen's stomach lurched at the choice, but it had to be done.

Even so she moved to kneel in front of her husband. The lord of Winterfell was covered in a mess of blood and filth as his lost green eyes stared blankly at the floor; the sight threatened to break her resolve.

"You don't know this yet; but I love you" she told him "more than anything, I love you. Hold on a little longer my love and Arya will bring you home. This time I'll make sure it's home for you; not your prison"

Tyrion didn't respond and Sansa knew he couldn't hear her; but a piece of her had to tell him. It was the only way leaving his side would be bearable.

"It takes a lot of time and you have setbacks, but you start to recover. I apologise for treating you so badly, and by some miracle you give me another chance" she said, tears sliding down her face "I try to make amends, though it will never be enough. I do my best to show you Winterfell can be your home, and we can be your family. Things get better. You have a direwolf who becomes your best friend. Arya and your friends visit you and you start to heal"

Sansa drew in a shuddering breath; it was one of the hardest things she'd ever done, but this was the past and she was here to observe. She leaned closer to Tyrion, her heart lurching at the barely hidden pain in his dull eyes.

"I tell you every day I love you, I try to show you how much. Little by little I gain your trust. It's more than I deserve, but I accept it gratefully" she said, her voice breaking "then one night, when I'm holding you in my arms you say that you love me – and it means everything. Far more than any crown or castle ever could"

Sansa leaned forwards pressing her lips as close to Tyrion's forehead as she could, and feeling nothing there.

"My brave husband, you'll be home soon – and I'll spend the rest of my life loving you"

The Queen rose on trembling legs, her heart breaking as she left Tyrion in the stall and stumbled out into the daylight. If there was anything at all in this hell that could be used against those bastards she would find it. Whatever it took Robin and Gawan would not get away with this. She'd burn the North to the ground before letting those creatures go free.

* * *

After he left the meeting with Brienne and Davos, Bronn gathered all the belongings he would need before hovering around the ramparts of the castle. As eager as he was to leave Winterfell behind him, Bronn couldn't leave until he was certain and that meant one final attempt to speak to Tyrion.

He'd heard the lord of Winterfell had gone into the village with the younger Stark girl and it was just after midday when they reappeared. Fortunately they parted ways at the gate and for once Tyrion was on his own; even his wolf had wandered off once inside the castle gates.

Bronn checked around him before hurrying down the ramparts, slowing down as he sighted Tyrion. The Lannister appeared to be deep in thought, fidgeting with something in his pocket as he made his way around the side of the castle. The former sellsword slowed his pace, making certain they were alone as he approached Tyrion from behind.

"Nice time in the village?" he called

His old friend jumped in surprise, hand flying to the hilt of a short sword hanging from his waist as he turned to see Bronn. They were stood in a narrow path at the side of the castle, the high walls obscuring them from view, and leaving them unlikely to be interrupted.

"Yes, thank you" he said, eyeing him warily

Bronn bit the inside of his cheek. The lord of Winterfell was glancing around as if hoping someone else would appear and rescue him from the conversation.

"Fancy sword" he said, gesturing to the black and gold sheath hanging at his side

"Oh…yes, it was a gift"

"Can I see it?"

A strange feeling stirred in Bronn that he didn't much care for as the dwarf nervously withdrew the blade and handed it over. Tyrion was watching him as though he expected him to steal it.

It was a fine blade; smoky black, with a lion head pommel. Bronn turned it over noticing how the lions head merged into a direwolf on the other side.

"Valyrian steel?" he asked, knowing damned well where the sword had come from.

Tyrion nodded, his eyes following the weapon "It's the other half of Ned Stark's sword"

Bran had told them what Sansa had done with the sword, and Bronn was as surprised as everyone else had been - except the King. He'd never known Tyrion to possess any interest in weapons, but he'd seen the lord of Winterfell practicing with the guards. Valyrian steel was incredibly rare, for the Starks to give him this…

Bronn forced a smile handing the blade back to Tyrion, much to his apparent relief.

"Saw you kill a man with a shield, reckon a sword like that'll make it easier"

"I suppose it will" said Tyrion, shifting uneasily

It was increasingly apparent how uncomfortable Tyrion was, and how eager he was to leave. Bronn was eager to leave Winterfell far behind him, but he had to be sure.

"Had enough of the North I have" said Bronn, crossing his arms "Too bloody cold up here. You hate the cold, don't ya?"

"I've grown used to it"

"We're going back south soon. You could come with us, leave all this shit behind ya"

Surprise flickered momentarily across the Lannister's face, before he shook his head "This is my home now"

"You always wanted Casterly Rock; it's yours now. Your father or sister aint here to bother ya"

"I don't want Casterly Rock anymore"

"Don't tell me you're blaming yourself for Kings Landing? You weren't the one giving the orders to burn the city down"

Tyrion frowned, regret creeping into his eyes "I didn't see Daenaerys for what she was - in some way I am responsible for all those deaths"

"Her madness wasn't your fault. No reason to punish yourself by staying up here"

"I'm not punishing myself" said Tyrion, adding quietly "I like it here"

Bronn sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose "I heard what happened in the Wolfswood. How can ya want to stay here after that?"

The lord of Winterfell paled at the mention of the Wolfswood, his fingers fiddling with the pommel of his sword "It won't happen again"

"You don't know that. They're still out there aint they? You'd be safer in Kings Landing or Casterly Rock" said Bronn, spreading his hands "there's nothing here for you"

"Sansa and Arya are here" said Tyrion, his voice hardening "Since when do you care what happens to me anyway?"

Bronn bristled at the accusation "Bran told us you'd gone missing and they were hurting ya"

"So what? I doubt you lost any sleep over it" said Tyrion "Most of Westeros were probably very happy to hear it"

The master of coin clenched his fist, his argument dissolving as he saw the old hurt flash across Tyrion's face. Even when he was hand of the King to Joffrey he'd wanted people to love him. The trial for killing the little shit and Shae's betrayal had been the final rejection for Tyrion. The message was clear; Westeros, his family and his lover all wanted him dead. More than once Bronn had tried to warn him about wasting time trying to get people to like him, but the little Lannister had been determined to prove his worth to the family that didn't want him - right until it ended in blood and murder.

"You really want to stay?" asked Bronn

Tyrion nodded "Until the day Sansa orders me away"

"Fine. I aint gonna bother you no more" said Bronn, stepping away from the dwarf "I've had more than enough of the bloody North. Goodbye m'lord"

Bronn didn't give Tyrion a chance to reply as he turned back down the path heading out the gate. His duty to Bran be damned; it was time to have some fun in this shithole. Davos and Brienne could carry on with their meetings while the King daydreamed in the Godswood. He'd be back in time to leave and if Bran didn't want him on the council no more, then so what? He had two castles anyway.

* * *

"I need more time" growled Gawan, pacing back and forth in the farm house.

Robin was sat in an armchair around the hearth studying his friend. The lord of Widows Watch was quite good at hiding his true emotions – far better than Gawan. Sansa had always been wary of both of them, but that was something she'd blamed on her past experience with men. Certainly in her presence they'd both acted as one would expect from young lords. Robin had been somewhat arrogant, but charming in a way she might have liked in her childhood. Gawan had a petulant side reminiscent of Joffrey but the only sign of his cruelty had been when he'd killed those rabbits. Even that she'd brushed aside as showing off for the Queen.

After tearing herself away from Tyrion, Sansa had walked through a door and straight into the farm house that appeared to be the base of operations. The talk so far had focused on their failure to find the women. Guards had started to arrive back having given up the hunt.

"I can break him – I know I can" said Gawan, his hands curling and uncurling "if you'd just let me do things my way..."

"I would, but we've already sold him. With the slaves escaping we need the gold from selling the dwarf. The idiot is paying a fortune to kill the imp. There needs to be something left to kill"

Gawan sighed running his hand over the knives on his belt "You're right, I know that! But the little monster won't even scream. I had my knife in his breeches and he still wouldn't tell me anything"

"Forget it Gawan. There's still a chance our men can capture the slaves without Tyrion giving us a location"

"If not?"

"Then we'll have to move quickly. Whether we get the slaves back or not we'll need to be ready to leave tonight. Grey Worm will come to collect his prize and we need to be gone by then. He may be stupid but he's dangerous"

Gawan nodded his shaggy head, a grin lighting up his face "He wouldn't be happy to learn he's been propping up our slavery business"

Sansa's stomach stirred as she listened to their conversation. Neither of them had said anything she didn't already know, but she had to keep trying. Reluctantly Sansa remained in the farm house observing them throughout the day. It was immediately apparent Robin was in charge. The guards reported to him when they returned, while Gawan spent his time sharpening his knives.

Yet another guard returned without the girls and the frown on Robin's face deepened.

"What do you mean there's no sign of them? They were half-starved; how could they vanish into thin air?" snapped Robin

The guard was a middle aged man with scruffy light brown hair "I don't know m'lord. I've had men all over the Wolfswood and there's no sign of them"

"The imp's hidden them somehow" said Robin tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair

Gawan glanced across the table where he was toying with a long thin blade "Let me have another go at him. Losing a few fingers will loosen his tongue"

Robin pursed his lips considering Gawan's idea, when a young man with short black hair rushed into the farm house "M'lord, they've reached Winterfell"

At that Robin's normally controlled face twisted into a snarl "What? How the hell did they get through the Wolfswood without being found?"

The younger man panted on the spot as if he'd run to deliver the news "We had men all over the main paths. One of the men further up saw the Winterfell guards find them - the message has just got here"

A satisfied smirk pulled at Sansa's mouth. Good. Nothing pleased her more than knowing her husband had outsmarted these young lords.

"They were supposed to be getting shipped off to Essos in a couple of days" pouted Gawan "I wanted to brand them"

"What are your orders m'lord?" asked the older guard

Robin laced his fingers together "The dwarf has ruined months of work and cost us a lot of money. It's far from ideal but we'll have to move onto the second plan. Sansa's reign as Queen will come to an end one way or another"

"Icy bitch doesn't even realise we've been setting her up" said Gawan

"She thinks she has a right to rule because her name's Stark" said Robin, a smirk crossing his face "We'll see how proud she is when the North turns on her"

"Can I keep the imp as a pet?" asked Gawan "It would be a fitting punishment. Imagine Sansa's face seeing her husband at our feet!"

"I'd like to give him to you" said Robin, amusement dancing in his eyes "but with the slaves gone we need the gold from selling him more than ever. I've been destroying letters from minor houses for weeks - by now they should be ready to turn on the Queen in the North"

"What if they don't?" asked the older guard "We'll all be hung as traitors"

Robin's sharp eyes flickered over the man "Do you doubt our cause?"

"No, m'lord. The North needs a proper Northerner to rule it. The Queen is too close to the southerners - she's one of them"

Gawan spread his hands "You don't need to worry. Grey Worm has paid a king's ransom for the dwarf and that money will ensure our victory one way or another"

"We will win this war and reclaim the North. The Starks weakness has ruined it for too long" said Robin "First we need to leave. Ready the men to break camp"

"At once m'lord" said the older guard, bobbing his head and leaving with the younger man

Gawan was pouting as he twisted his knives in his hands "I could have broken the little monster"

"Cheer up Gawan" said Robin "When I rule, we can restart our slavery business properly and you can play with them as you like"

"I suppose"

"I think we have time to pay the lord of Winterfell one final visit"

The boys shared a cruel smile as Sansa's heart dropped. These men she'd trusted had been against her from the start, and she'd devoted so much of her time to pleasing them and building good relations - all for the good of the North. Wining and dining them while ignoring Tyrion; one of the few people who actually cared for her.

Sansa followed Robin and Gawan as they prepared to break camp, but she learnt nothing she didn't already know. They spoke little of their plans for what came next. Darkness was falling when they made their way back towards the stables where Tyrion lay.

The Queen followed at a distance as Robin stormed into the stall. The lord of Widows Watch had grown angrier throughout the day as his plan fell apart; a fury that was about to be unleashed on Tyrion.

"You little bastard"

Sansa flinched as her former friend lifted his foot and kicked Tyrion in the ribs. Her husband could do nothing to avoid the blows as they crashed against him, silently enduring the punishment.

"You ruined everything" said Robin, crouching down and roughly grabbing his blood covered face

"Good" mumbled Tyrion

"Look at the state of you" said Robin, dropping his weight onto Tyrion and straddling him "Sansa will be ashamed when she gets your corpse"

"No, I won't" shouted Sansa, unable to hold her tongue. She knew it wouldn't change anything, but part of her couldn't allow these vile lies to go unchallenged. They weren't true - yet she could see in Tyrion's eyes that he believed them.

"Why won't you speak!" said Robin, slamming his fist repeatedly into Tyrion's chest "You could have spared yourself all this, if you'd told us where the slaves had gone"

"Not worth it" said Tyrion

Sansa heart thudded painfully as she watched the punishment. Gawan was making his way towards the stall now, a group of guards with him. Her eyes narrowed on lord Glover's son. He'd pouted all afternoon over his failure to break Tyrion, but now his eyes sparked with energy - as though excited for what was going to come next.

The Queen returned her focus to Tyrion, where Robin had pulled him forwards to prod the brand on his back. However hard she tried, Sansa couldn't separate herself from the broken look in Tyrion's eyes. Finally Robin pushed off from Tyrion, though his taunts didn't stop.

"We've had to change plans because of you, but don't worry - your executioner is on his way. The fool paid us a King's ransom to get his hands on you"

"Believed everything we told him" said Gawan "but I suppose revenge makes you blind"

"The slaves have reached Winterfell" admitted Robin with a sigh "and that means Sansa will be sending out people to bring her pet back. We can't be here for that, you see. As much as I'd love to watch him gut you, we'll have to leave you behind to await the familiar face of death"

"It's a shame really" said Gawan, looking mournfully at Tyrion "I wanted to keep you as my pet, but we needed money to run this operation and his demands were very reasonable"

Sansa couldn't take it anymore. She hurried into the stall, dropping beside her husband once more as Robin and Gawan continued to taunt him. He looked worse than when she'd left him, the collar around his neck was the only thing keeping him upright. His mangled arm was swollen amid a mess of bruising.

"Poor little lion wanted to be a wolf" mocked Gawan "now he's just prey"

At Gawan's words, a deep sadness swept across Tyrion's face that sent Sansa's heart into a spasm. Was that what he wanted? To be a wolf, and not a lion? Her mind drifted back through everything she'd seen and heard. There had been several comments about Tyrion trying to be like the Starks. His whole behaviour since coming North had altered drastically.

She could make him a Stark, if that was what he wanted. Tyrion could leave his Lannister identity behind – be a lion no more. Guilt wormed its way through Sansa. Had Tyrion changed his identity because he wanted to fit in with them?

"My love" said Sansa, lifting a hand to his face and feeling nothing there "I love you just the way you are"

She gazed at her husband. His golden hair was overgrown and filthy, and his green eyes were empty as he stared at the floor - but he was a lion. Somehow Sansa would make sure he was as proud of that as she was.

Sansa was so lost in her musings she didn't realise what was going on until a snap filled the air and Tyrion's face creased in pain. She whipped her head around to see Robin grasping hold of her husband's now broken ankle - and twisting it side to side.

"No!" she shouted, bile clawing up her throat as the bones ground together

Oh Gods, Sansa felt sick.

"Why won't you scream imp?" asked Robin, dropping the snapped ankle back to the ground "You've disappointed Gawan - he hoped to hear a lion cry. Hurting you wasn't in our plans but you brought it on yourself by interfering"

"We've tried to keep the damage to one side of your body. This guy paid a lot for the honour of killing you - least we could do was leave him an undamaged side to work on" said Gawan

"It would be bad business otherwise" agreed Robin "Gawan, come take your pet for his last walk"

Sansa stood on shaky legs as Gawan bounced towards Tyrion. They spoke about him as though he was nothing. As if he didn't have thoughts or feelings.

'That's how you treated him' whispered her mind

To her surprise Gawan unchained Tyrion's wrists and unlocked the chain tethering his collar to the wall.

"Let's go" said Gawan tugging on the chain attached to the collar

For the rest of her life Sansa would never forget what happened - or how helpless she was to stop it. Her gentle, kind husband was pulled out of the stall as if he were a dog being taken for a walk. Tyrion tried to stand but his body was far too weak. Frustration welled up in his eyes as Gawan dragged him out of the stables and into icy snow. Guards formed a pathway as he was pulled onwards.

Sansa studied the guards, burning their faces into her memory as they kicked and spat on Tyrion. They would all die.

"Good boy, not far to go" said Gawan, grinning down at Tyrion as he petted him

The snow had soaked through Tyrion's breeches by the time he was pulled towards Robin, who stood waiting at a post. A sign had been nailed to the top that read; the lord of Winterfell.

_'Oh Tyrion, I'm so sorry'_ thought Sansa_ 'You didn't deserve to suffer any of this'_

The chain attached to Tyrion's collar was fixed to the post high above where he could reach it. The boys moved forwards to address their men as the lord of Winterfell lay discarded in the snow.

Vaguely Robin's rallying speech reached her ears, but she couldn't tear her eyes from her husband.

The Queen was shaking now, a sob breaking from her throat as she stared into Tyrion's broken green eyes.

"Enough" she whispered "I've had enough"

Nothing changed, the scene continued to unfold. She wasn't strong enough for this.

"Bran!" she shouted, her voice breaking "Enough…please make it stop! I've seen enough"

The idea of being trapped in this hell had begun to take hold of Sansa when the world spun around her.

* * *

Tyrion's mind was a mess of thoughts as he wound his way towards his and Sansa's room. Seeing Bronn had rattled him. He'd done his best to avoid the master of coin while he was at Winterfell, but Bronn had managed to corner him…and tried to convince him to leave?

Why would he want to leave Winterfell? There was nothing in Kings Landing for him. The people hated him - he'd be alone.

He wasn't alone here; not anymore.

Tyrion's stomach fluttered at the thought of tomorrow. For weeks Sansa had doted on him, caring for him in a way no-one ever had before. When he chose to stay at Winterfell, Tyrion promised he would try and make things work. He and Sansa had become far closer than he'd ever dared to hope and he wanted to do something nice for his wife - he only hoped she liked his surprise.

As he approached the door to his chambers he found Arya lurking outside. The girl was leaning against the wall, half hidden in a shadow.

"They're still in the Godswood" she muttered, a frown twisting her face

Tyrion's stomach churned. It was the middle of the afternoon, what had they been doing there all day?

"Do you think Sansa's alright?" he asked

She shrugged "There's guards at the entrance to the Godswood saying Bran and the Queen aren't to be disturbed"

Understanding dawned on Tyrion. Upon their return to the castle Arya had quickly excused herself and Tyrion had wandered off to make a few final arrangements and to find Sansa. Now he realised where Arya had gone. Finding her brother still busy with Sansa had once again darkened her mood.

"I'm sure they won't be much longer" offered Tyrion

"I don't care how long they take" she said, grey eyes daring him to disagree

Well this was awkward. While Arya's mood had brightened while they went around the village, Bran's continued absence had once again offended her - not that she would admit to such a thing.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, eyeing him curiously

"I'm quite alright" he said. The village was the furthest he'd been for weeks, and the exertion had certainly drained a lot of his energy - but he needed to push himself to rebuild his stamina. He was nowhere near old enough for a walk to be tiring him out.

"Want to go the practice yard?" she asked, glancing at his sword "You should practice with it if you're going to start wearing it"

"Yes, I'll go" he agreed "You're right - I probably should get used to this sword rather than the training ones"

Arya patted his shoulder "I've seen you practicing, you're more than ready to use a proper sword again"

Together they turned, heading back down the corridor. The sword Sansa had gifted him was an excellent weapon - far better than he deserved. He'd told Sansa he was waiting to get his strength back before using it, but truthfully he didn't want embarrass the Starks. It was the weapon of a true lord, not intended for an imp. Arya was right though. If he was going to carry it he should be used to using it. Aside from that, if Arya was joining him he was going to have little choice - the stubborn girl would not suffer any excuses from him.

"You did well with those children" she said as they made their way to the stairs

"I appreciated your help" he said "I wasn't entirely certain what they wanted from me"

"I knew they weren't going to laugh at you. They were just curious - not many lords bother to leave their castles"

"My father rarely left his"

"Mine did, but not as many people approached him as they do you"

"Strange as it sounds I prefer helping the small folk. They suffer the most in a war and are often forgotten when it's done"

Arya raised an eyebrow at him "Very true, big brother"

It had been a rather strange experience in the village. Cersei had often told him how terrifying he was to children, but Arya was right; they were just curious. Much to his surprise the children hadn't mocked him at all, instead asking questions about Lyon, the Queen and even Casterly Rock. That had truly shocked him - that they were curious about his ancestral home. A few had asked if he'd ever seen a real lion, and one boy had even asked how good Jamie was with a sword. He'd always though being a Lannister in the North was a death sentence. Burying his past and blending in seemed the best way to survive, yet people didn't seem to find his presence offensive anymore.

There had been none of the sneering judgement he expected as he walked through the village. The small folk had greeted him warmly and the children had petted Lyon and asked to see his sword. Gradually his nerves had slipped away and he found himself enjoying the children's company as they asked him questions. He'd thought Nessa and her family's acceptance of him was a rare treat, but the children had shown no fear or hatred of him - only curiosity. Arya had been a great help as always; encouraging him along and staying by his side.

As much as he could use a nap, it was obvious enough Arya didn't want to be alone and he was more than happy to join her in the practice yard. Although his mind did drift to Sansa. What was taking her so long? He'd expected to find her in their chambers. Tyrion pushed down the knot of worry, determined to focus on Arya as they stepped outside the castle and the cool Northern air greeted them once more.

Sansa was a very capable woman. Whatever she and Bran were doing, he had no doubt she could handle herself.

* * *

When the world tilted around Sansa and the Wolfswood slipped away she'd expected to return to the Godswood with Bran. Not to find herself standing in an unfamiliar castle. She was stood in a corridor with windows looking out across the sea. Beaches lined the edge of the sea stretching along the coast. Turning her attention back to the corridor she noticed the red and gold that lined the walls – and the lion sigil. This was Casterly Rock.

"Must you humiliate the family name?" barked a severe voice in the distance

Swallowing down her panic Sansa moved towards the voice coming from behind a closed door. The Queen hesitated only briefly before stepping through it and into what appeared to be a spacious study. Lion banners decorated the walls and a desk occupied the far end - with Tywin Lannister sat behind it.

The little girl in Sansa froze. The old lion was a cruel man; responsible for the red wedding as much as the Freys.

_'This is the past'_ she reminded herself, forcing her feet onwards

The lord of Casterly Rock looked a fair bit younger than when Sansa had met him, but no less severe. She followed his gaze to find a small child stood to the side of the desk - a mop of curly golden hair covering his head.

No, it couldn't…

There was no mistaking it as she knelt next to Tyrion. The boy's green eyes were shining with fear as he gazed up at his father. He was small, with noticeably short arms and legs. If Sansa had to guess she'd say he was about six years old.

Tywin glared at his son, a wooden sword sat on the table next to him.

"Why were you using this?"

"Wanted to practice..."

"Practice for what?"

"When I'm bigger I'm gonna be a knight" said the little Tyrion, a hopeful smile crossing his face

Despite the horror she'd just witnessed, Sansa found herself smiling along with Tyrion. The boy had a sweet face, childhood innocence shining in his eyes.

Tywin's face tightened, though it held no sympathy for his youngest son "You're a dwarf. Do you know what that means?"

A frown crossed his face "It means I'm small – but I'll get bigger one day!"

"No, you won't" said Tywin, his eyes as hard as stone "You will not get bigger nor will you ever be a knight"

Tyrion's shoulders trembled "But…I thought I could be like Jamie…"

"Your brother is the future lord of Casterly Rock. He has a future that you do not"

"I can still use a sword" insisted Tyrion "Jamie showed me how"

"No you won't" barked Tywin, mouth curling in distaste "You are forbidden from training in arms. I will not have you further disgracing our name by pretending to be a knight. Do you understand?"

"But father…" said Tyrion, eyeing his wooden sword

"Do you understand?"

Sansa's heart cracked as Tyrion nodded his head, tears welling in his green eyes.

"Now go" dismissed Tywin, turning back to his papers and tossing the sword into the corner where it clattered against the floor "and don't ever let me catch you with a sword again. It's a weapon for knights and lords - not dwarfs"

The boy turned and fled from his father's study, Sansa hurrying after him. It was when the door banged shut behind him that his face crumpled and tears spilled from his eyes.

Every instinct in Sansa wanted to sweep the boy into her arms and hold him close.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry" she said, reaching towards him only to pass right through "You'll be a great lord some day and have a sword of your own"

If Tywin Lannister wasn't dead, Sansa would have gladly killed him. How anyone could be so cruel to their own child was beyond her. Even Cersei, as monstrous as she was had cared for her own children.

The little Tyrion stumbled down the hall, wiping at his eyes as sobs wracked his body. He made it to the next corridor before tucking himself into a corner and sinking to the ground. It was then his emotions truly broke free. Every sob she couldn't soothe was like a dagger to Sansa's heart as she crouched in front of him. She had no idea why she'd been brought to see this piece of Tyrion's childhood – she was as helpless to change it as she was the Wolfswood.

"What are you crying for?" demanded a shrill voice

Sansa turned to see a pretty golden haired girl of about ten or eleven standing over Tyrion. Despite her youth, Sansa knew she was looking at Cersei Lannister.

"Nothing" said Tyrion, burying his face in his arms "leave me alone"

"You're not a real lion" she said, turning her nose up at him "lions don't cry"

"Go away!"

"Don't know why father lets you stay here. You're not good for anything"

A cruel smile crossed the future Queen's face as her little brothers sobs turned to heart-breaking wailing. Anger flooded Sansa as the boy cried. Never would she or her siblings have been let away with this cruelty.

"Pathetic" sneered the girl

"That's enough Cersei!"

Sansa turned to see a tall athletic boy with golden hair standing behind Cersei. His arms were crossed and he was glaring at his twin.

"Jamie" said Cersei, voice turning far too sweet "I didn't see you there. Come on let's do something fun"

"No" he said flatly "apologise to Tyrion"

The girl's eyes narrowed "No. He's an imp and no-one wants him"

"He's our baby brother - apologise"

"No" said Cersei, shaking her head "Come on; we can go swimming before dinner!"

Tyrion was still sobbing in the corner, his legs and arms drawn up into a ball.

Jamie pushed past his sister, but she caught his shoulder halting his movements "Forget about him. We can play that game you liked so much"

Jamie's face reddened and Sansa's stomach churned uncomfortably as the implication set in. However odd his relationship with Cersei was, Sansa couldn't fault him as a big brother. He shrugged out of his sister's grip, crouching in front of Tyrion and easily lifting the crying boy into his arms. Immediately Tyrion turned his head into his brother's shoulder, short arms winding around his neck as he tried to stifle his cries.

Cersei did not like to be ignored, her hands clenching into fists "You're going to turn down my offer for the little monster?"

"He's not a monster" said Jamie, his face hardening "Apologise to Tyrion and maybe you can play with us"

"No chance" sneered Cersei "Why waste your time on the thing that killed mother?"

"I'm sorry" cried Tyrion, his shoulders heaving "Didn't mean to..."

"Don't be stupid Cersei" said Jamie, meeting his twin's glare "that wasn't Tyrion's fault. Aunt Genna said lots of women die giving birth"

"Father says it's his fault" said Cersei, stamping her foot "Why are you taking the imps side?"

"There is no side" said Jamie, pushing past his sister and carrying Tyrion away

Sansa followed them, leaving the petulant girl in the corridor. Even months after the Queen's death there was great satisfaction to be found in Cersei not getting her own way. The corridors of Casterly Rock twisted and turned until the young Jamie Lannister pushed open a door into a spacious room, decorated in red and gold. Everything in the room looked expensive, from the bedding to the belongings strewn carelessly across the floor. It was a room fit for the heir to Casterly Rock.

Jamie deposited his little brother on the bed, sinking onto it beside him. Sansa stood opposite them, her heart thumping painfully at not being able to comfort Tyrion.

"How did it go with Father?" asked Jamie, as Tyrion wiped at his red-rimmed eyes

"He said... I won't get any bigger…"

The other boy shifted awkwardly on the bed, offering his brother a smile "You'll get a bit bigger I think"

"Not like you"

"What did he say about the sword practice?"

"I'm not allowed to do it anymore" said Tyrion, wrapping his arms around himself

Jamie sighed, draping his arm around his little brother "I'm sorry"

"It's not your fault" said Tyrion, biting his lip "Thanks for showing me anyway…I can't be a knight"

Sansa's heart ached to comfort Tyrion herself, but she was helpless to watch. This was just one memory. How many times in his childhood had Tyrion experienced such cruel words from his family? Sansa knew she had been mean to Jon in their childhood, but that was nothing compared to the sheer venom Tyrion had experienced – all because he was a dwarf and his mother had died.

Jamie smiled at his little brother "So what if you can't be a knight – you're still smarter than all of us"

"No-one cares about that" sniffed Tyrion, pouting at the floor

"You could be a lord like father"

"You'll be lord of Casterly Rock, not me" said the boy, green eyes far too sad for a child his age "I'll be nothing"

Jamie squeezed his shoulder "Not true; you'll be my brother. Besides I'll need someone clever to help me. No-one's as clever as you"

"Cersei will help you"

Jamie wrinkled his nose "Cersei's not that smart and she can be annoying. I want you to help me"

A small smile flitted over Tyrion's face "Ok"

"When I'm lord of Casterly Rock you can practice with a sword all you want"

At that Tyrion's eyes lit up "Really?"

Jamie smiled, ruffling his brother's curly hair "Of course"

The young Tyrion threw his short arms around his older brother's waist "Thanks Jamie! Don't know what I'd do without you"

Jamie returned the hug "Don't let Cersei bother you either. Do you remember what I said?"

Tyrion's head bobbed dutifully up and down "Go away inside"

"Exactly" said Jamie, smiling at the boy "No-one can hurt you there"

Sansa was so lost in the scene before her she didn't notice her own brother until he stood at her side.

Bran's face was haggard as he reached out to her "Quickly..."

As soon as he made contact with her arm, she found herself flying away from the scene and Tyrion. Everything around Sansa spun in a twist of colours and voices until she thudded back into something solid. With a jolt her eyes shot open, desperately sucking in a lungful of air as if she'd been suffocating.

The Queen jerked forwards on the log, inadvertently shaking lose a pile of snow that had accumulated over her. The familiar Northern breeze greeted her like an old friend and Sansa brushed her trembling fingers over the rough log beneath her. A thrill of excitement went through that she could touch and feel again.

The elation of being back in the present, of escaping that hell lasted only moments before a torrent of emotion swept through Sansa. A shudder went through her, followed quickly by another until she'd wrapped her arms around herself and sat shaking on the log.

"Sansa…I'm sorry"

Her brother was slumped in his wheelchair, snow covering him as it did her. The three-eyed raven looked exhausted, his face pale and drawn.

"What-what…why?"

"I thought I could control it" he ground out, rubbing the side of his head "the old Gods took control…pulled you from me"

"They hurt him so much" said Sansa, tears escaping from her eyes

"I thought you'd be able to stay neutral - see what you needed to"

"Stay neutral?" she breathed "While those-those creatures tortured and degraded my husband? What was I supposed to see?"

Bran's head lolled to one side "I don't know. The old Gods have shown you whatever they would allow you to see - to learn"

Sansa stood on shaking legs, her voice a whisper "All I learned was how much I failed Tyrion!"

"Perhaps that's what you needed to learn" muttered Bran, screwing his eyes shut as if he had a headache

Images of what she'd seen continued to flit through Sansa's mind, her heart crumbling to pieces at each memory "I need to see him"

Sansa spared one last glance at her brother as she staggered from the Wolfswood, a desperate urge carrying her onwards. Pod was stood with another guard at the entrance to the Godswood, his eyes widening in surprise as she hurried past him.

"Queen Sansa, what-?" he called

"It's over" she called back, vaguely aware of the young man running into the Godswood.

Tears burned at her eyes, why would Bran show her that? She knew she had a reputation for being cold. Did Bran really think she'd be able to watch what happened to Tyrion with indifference? A thousand thoughts and emotions clawed at Sansa's mind threatening to tear her to pieces. The single overriding thought was to find her husband.

How long had they been in the Godswood? It appeared to be mid-afternoon as she slowed her frantic pace, yet she'd been in the past for days. It can't have been that long. Someone would have come looking for them if it had been that long.

The Queen wandered up the ramparts, trying to piece together where her husband might be. It was as she walked along the battlements she heard a shout.

"Come on Tyrion!"

Sansa hurried towards the shout, her legs barely supporting her as she rounded a corner and found herself under the covered bridge where her parents used to stand. Below her she could see the practice yard where training was taking place. Her eyes swept over the group of men sat watching at one side, vaguely registering Arya amongst them.

She searched the area until she found who she was looking for. Tyrion was engaged in a battle with Alec. The Winterfell captain hammering away at her husband as he swung his valyrian steel sword to block the vicious strikes.

Sansa sagged against the railing.

He was here; he was safe.

This Tyrion was a far cry from the man she'd seen in the past - whole, hearty and very much alive.

The Queen watched as her husband blocked another attack, before Alec struck towards his bad leg. Instantly Tyrion dropped to defend it, but Alec had tricked him. He changed targets at the last second, bringing his weapon to rest at Tyrion's throat.

"Dead?" asked Alec, breathing heavily

"Dead" agreed Tyrion

The fight over Sansa could contain herself no longer, hurrying down to ground level and waiting off to one side. Tyrion was panting for breath but his green eyes shone brightly as Arya and the men bantered with him.

"You nearly had him Tyrion!" said Cayn

"That wasn't really close" breathed her husband

"It's been ages since you've done some sparring" said Lyle "You didn't seem rusty at all"

Alec clapped him on the back, smiling at his friend "That was a good fight. If you hadn't fallen for my trick, we'd probably still be going"

"Better I did fall for it then" panted Tyrion "I couldn't go much longer"

It was Arya that noticed her first, nudging Tyrion as the men broke into chatter. Her husband turned, his face brightening as he saw her. Sansa pressed her mouth tightly together, hiding in the shadows as she waved to him. His brow furrowed at the unusual gesture and to Sansa's relief he excused himself from his friends to come over to her.

"Sansa" he greeted "how did it go with- Are you alright?"

The Queen was fighting a losing battle to keep her emotions under control as Tyrion stood before her, his gaze filled with worry.

"What's wrong?" he asked, reaching out to take her hand

The moment he made contact, Sansa broke.

She sank to her knees in the sludgy snow wrapping her arms around Tyrion as a sob broke from her throat. Instantly she felt his arms wrap around her, rubbing her back.

"Sansa, what happened?" he asked, confusion lacing his tone

"I love you" she murmured in his ear, tears racing down her face "I love you, I love you"

Tyrion tightened his grip around her, as the weight of everything she'd seen crashed down on Sansa. How could she even begin to explain the hell she'd seen? She was dimly aware that Arya had joined them, whispering frantically with Tyrion.

Sansa didn't care what they were saying. All that mattered to Sansa was having Tyrion in her arms - it was something she would never lose again.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Once again Tyrion found himself cursing his short stature. He was little help as they led Sansa through Winterfell and towards their chambers. It shouldn't be like this – he should be able to lift her in his arms and carry her to safety. Instead he could only hobble beside her, clinging onto her hand.

When he saw Sansa in the practice yard he'd assumed she'd finished with Bran and come looking for him. Never had he expected her to be utterly distraught. As he'd reached for her hand, Sansa's thin mask of calm had broken and she'd dropped to her knees pulling him into an embrace. Arya had quickly joined them, demanding to know what had happened.

Sansa was not overly demonstrative of her emotions. While she was far more open with him and Arya, in public she generally maintained a regal face. Getting the Queen into the sanctuary of their chambers was the first priority.

Between him and Arya they'd got Sansa to her feet and she'd reluctantly released her death grip on him, though she'd seized hold of his right hand - as if afraid of losing contact with him. They'd done their best to avoid the servants and guests, but Tyrion was fairly sure word would already be spreading of the state of the Queen.

"I love you" she murmured once again, squeezing his hand.

"I love you too" he replied, rubbing her arm as he tried to support her. Arya stood on her other side, one arm around her sister's shoulders.

Sansa's skin was normally as white as snow, but it somehow seemed paler than ever as the door to their chambers came into view. Tyrion was desperate to know what had happened to cause his wife so much distress. He'd seen Sansa upset before, but never had he seen her so shaken.

Arya pushed open the door to the room, leading Sansa towards the chaise. A bark sounded and Tyrion looked around to see Lyon rolling around on his back in the middle of the bed.

"Lyon!" he said, raising an eyebrow at his little friend. They'd wondered why there was so much golden hair on the bed. The wolf shot him a scandalised look before resuming his afternoon activity.

The hearth was burning cheerfully as they settled the shaken Queen onto the chaise. Tyrion's heart constricted at the sight of Sansa's blue eyes swimming in tears. Even as she sat down, Sansa continued to grip his hand as if it were her only lifeline.

"Do you mind?" she sniffed, gazing at their joined hands

"Of course not" he said, lifting his other hand to brush a few tears from her cheek "What's troubling you so?"

Tyrion exchanged a worried glance with Arya as they stood watching Sansa's normally composed face twist in despair.

"Bran offered to help" she said, pulling in a shuddering breath "He said he could show me…"

Sansa appeared unable to go on as a sob broke from her throat.

"Show you what?" asked Arya

The younger girl was tapping her foot in agitation. Bran had already irritated her, and finding her sister so upset after disappearing with him for hours had furthered her annoyance. Tyrion suspected Bran was going to have a rather unpleasant visit later. That was if they could find out what had actually happened.

"I flew with him. Saw like the three-eyed raven" choked out Sansa

Tyrion's eyes widened in surprise - he didn't know Bran could do that.

"Did he show you the future?" asked Arya, recovering first "Was it something bad?"

Sansa didn't seem able to formulate an answer, and Arya's protectiveness for her family appeared to be getting the best of her. The girl was like a wolf just waiting to be told where her prey was hiding. He had little doubt she'd be out the door as soon as she'd established the facts.

Tyrion's mind whirred to life at Arya's suggestion - it wasn't quite right. While Bran did seem to have some sense of foreshadowing what might happen, when Tyrion had spoken to him before the long night it was apparent his power did not reside in the future.

"He showed you the past, didn't he?" asked Tyrion softly

When Sansa's face crumpled he knew he'd hit the mark.

"Sansa please - tell us what you saw" said Arya

"Whatever it is" said Tyrion, squeezing her hand "Let us help you"

Sansa's blue eyes were haunted as she looked at him, biting her lip to stifle her sobs. What could she have possibly seen in the past that would upset her so much? The first thing that came to mind was Ramsay, but surely Bran wasn't callous enough to show his sister that? The red wedding, her father's execution - there were many horrors in Sansa's past that could hurt her.

"Will you sit with me?"

The quiet question drew Tyrion from his musings to his wife's blotchy face. She looked nervous at asking; as if he would actually refuse to comfort his wife. Immediately he joined her, tugging his hand from hers and wrapping his arm around her waist so she was settled against him. The height difference made it somewhat awkward but Sansa didn't seem to care as she melted into him.

Arya stood watching them, her hand twitching towards needle at her hip.

"Thank you" she murmured, wiping at her eyes

"I'm your husband, let me help you Sansa" he said "Can you tell us what happened?"

The Queen nodded, drawing in a shaky breath "You're right Tyrion – he showed me the past. Bran said he'd never done it before...but if the Old Gods allowed it I could see as he did..."

"Did you?" asked Arya

"I saw, but Bran wasn't there...I was alone" choked Sansa "Bran said seeing the past would give me knowledge that could help at some point...everything he said was vague"

"Isn't it always" muttered Arya.

Tyrion rubbed his hand over Sansa's side "What in the past did you see?"

The Queen dropped her head, a tremor going through her "I saw the Wolfswood...I saw you - and what they did to you"

The blood in Tyrion's veins turned to ice at her words.

No.

Sansa couldn't have seen that - seen his greatest shame?

Just this morning he'd begun to accept that what happened maybe wasn't his fault, but that was before Sansa had seen.

"I watched them take you away, and saw you save the women" said Sansa, screwing her eyes shut "I couldn't change anything, or touch you. I watched those beasts hurt you..."

Tyrion tightened his arm around Sansa as he tried to force down the familiar shame creeping into his heart. The only positive of the Wolfswood was that Sansa and Arya hadn't been there to see his degradation – but Sansa had seen it now. How could she ever look at him the same?

"Why would Bran show you that?" asked Arya, an edge of steel in her voice

"I don't know what I was supposed to see" said Sansa, before turning to face him "I'm so very proud of you"

"They humiliated me – I humiliated you" he whispered "I'm sorry you had to see that Sansa"

"Never. You're so brave...no matter what they did to you, you wouldn't break"

Tyrion shifted uneasily at her words. He hadn't felt brave. All he'd felt in the Wolfswood was fear and shame. Arya's face had tightened considerably as her sister spoke, her fury barely contained.

"Bran brought you to the past and then left you?" she asked "This doesn't make any sense"

"He said something about the old Gods" said Sansa, shivering beside him "I was in the past for days but it's not been days has it?"

Tyrion shook his head "No. You've been gone hours; it's mid-afternoon now"

"Did you see Bran at all in the past?" pressed Arya

"I was sat with Tyrion in the…stables" she choked out "a raven with three eyes spoke to me once. He kept telling me to focus…I couldn't do it. I'm sorry, this is all my fault...I made a mess of everything"

"None of this is your fault" said Tyrion, rubbing his hand over Sansa's back

Sansa shook her head "I should have been focusing. I knew the past couldn't be changed but I couldn't bear to leave you alone. They hurt you so badly..."

The Queen dissolved into tears again leaning into him and Tyrion gladly wrapped his arms around her. Tyrion had no desire to think about the Wolfswood ever again; it already haunted him enough. Now it was haunting Sansa too.

Arya's face softened as she looked at her sister "I'm so sorry Sansa. You never should have seen that"

"What they said to you Tyrion - it wasn't true. We were looking for you, I promise. I'd never leave you, I missed you so much…"

Sansa trailed off burying her face in his neck and Tyrion's stomach twisted. It was unthinkable now, but at the time he had wondered if Sansa would even want him back. In seeing the past, Sansa had seen his doubt.

"I know" he said, kissing the top of her head "it's alright Sansa"

"You didn't know then" she said, her body shaking "you endured everything thinking I didn't care about you. I treated you horribly"

"That's not true" he said automatically, looking to Arya for back-up

The younger Stark said nothing, her mouth pressed into a grim line as she watched them.

"Everyone could see how poorly I treated you but me. Arya and Wolkan both warned me you weren't well but I wouldn't listen. Robin and Gawan called you my pet lion – even they saw how I treated you!" continued Sansa, her tears running off her face and soaking into his tunic

Tyrion pursed his lips, considering how to handle this. It took him a moment to realise why Arya hadn't jumped to reassure her sister but the truth was difficult to swallow. What Sansa had said was true, and he couldn't deny it – as much as he wanted to. He'd tried to do just that, but the words had been hollow even to him. For a moment Tyrion found himself envying Arya's bluntness. As sharp tongued as he could be, part of him still didn't want to accept Sansa's treatment of him was her fault and not his.

"You're right" he said, feeling Sansa stiffen in his arms "I didn't think you cared about me at all. I thought you would get your use out of me and then toss me aside like everyone else. When they...hurt me I never considered coming back to Winterfell. I thought you'd be ashamed of me. Better to die in the cold than be rejected by you"

"I understand" she mumbled, a sob wracking her body "I treated you like you were nothing. I forced everything on you – not caring what you wanted...I'm so sorry Tyrion. You should hate me for what I did"

Sansa didn't say it, but Tyrion knew she was referring to bedding him as well as everything else. The Queen stiffened in his arms pulling away from him. Tyrion didn't let her. He tightened his grip, running his hand through the back of her hair.

"I didn't want to come back here when Arya found me. I thought you'd be disgusted" he continued "but you weren't. From the moment I woke up you cared for me in a way no-one ever had. All the coldness and manipulation was gone from you. Queen Sansa had gone – instead I saw the real Sansa. The girl who was sweet and caring and loved her family more than anything. I saw the real Sansa Stark, and I fell in love with her"

"Oh, Tyrion – I'm so sorry my love"

"You've already apologised and I've already forgiven you" he soothed, continuing to rub her back as she cried into his shoulder "This is our second chance isn't it?"

She nodded, lifting her tear stained face to meet his "I don't deserve it, but I'll gladly accept it. I swear Tyrion – I will spend the rest of my life loving you as I should have"

"And I you"

Sansa calmed somewhat as she laid her head against him and Tyrion found Arya's gaze. She'd remained silent as they spoke, but she nodded approvingly at him now. He meant what he said – he had already forgiven Sansa. The dark voice in his mind would often drip poisonous doubts and fears into his ear but Tyrion was getting far better at ignoring it. He'd given Sansa another chance and she'd done nothing to make him regret it. Every day they grew closer.

Whatever horrors Sansa had been forced to watch had clearly dislodged some residual guilt for her actions. Never had he seen her so distraught, and he hoped never to again. His stomach twisted somewhat at the knowledge Sansa had seen so much of his shame. While he'd told her a few bits and pieces he'd spared some of the more shameful details. Part of him wondered exactly how much she'd seen.

"Are you going to be ok big sister?"

Arya's question drew Tyrion's attention back to Sansa. She was still trembling and her face was red and puffy from crying. Even now a few tears leaked from her eyes.

"I...I think so" she said

"You look exhausted Sansa" he said "Do you want to rest?"

Sansa looked uncertain; biting her lip "Will you stay with me?"

"There's nowhere I'd rather be"

The faintest smile crossed her face as she lightly kissed his cheek.

Arya moved to the edge of her seat "Get some rest Sansa - I'm going to see Bran"

Sansa nodded "Thank you"

"Need some help getting to bed?" she asked

"Please. I feel shaky...everything feels strange" said Sansa as Tyrion helped her move to the edge of the chaise

"Don't worry Sansa – I'll look after you" he promised, glancing at the bed "though I do believe we'll need to negotiate the bed from Lyon"

The direwolf perked up at his name before dropping on his back and rubbing against the covers once more.

"Is this what he does when you're not here?" asked Arya, a flicker of amusement in her eyes

Tyrion nudged Sansa, a small grin on his face "And you thought all those golden hairs were mine!"

* * *

As soon as the door to Sansa's chambers shut, Arya's rage returned with a vengeance. Her sister had suffered enough without being forced to watch Tyrion in pain. Arya had stayed long enough to see her sister settling onto the bed in Tyrion's arms before taking her leave. Sansa's anguish was completely understandable - and a long time coming. Bits and pieces had leaked out over the past weeks, but what she'd seen had been the breaking point. Tyrion had the situation under control and Arya knew it was his comfort her sister wanted. She would give them space and deal with Bran.

Arya stormed through the castle, winding her way towards her brother's chambers. As soon as she got close to the door she could hear some kind of commotion inside.

"You need to rest"

"…don't look well, your Grace"

That didn't stop Arya as she barged into the room.

"How could you do that?" she demanded

Her sharp eyes scanned the room. Brienne's hand went straight to her sword at the intrusion and Ser Davos jerked backwards at the unexpected visitor. Both of them were stood either side of Bran's wheelchair with Podrick hovering behind. All three of them visibly relaxed as they realised who their visitor was, but Arya paid them little attention.

"Hello Arya" said Bran, in that monotone voice that sounded nothing like her brother

The three-eyed raven looked exhausted. He was slumped in his wheelchair, his forehead creased as if he was in pain.

"Lady Arya, is everything alright?" asked Ser Davos, glancing between her and his King

"No, it's not"

"Is Queen Sansa well?" asked Pod "I saw her run from the Godswood"

"That's hardly surprising" said Arya, crossing her arms "Thank you for your concern though Podrick - it would be nice if your King cared too"

"What happened?" asked Brienne "Ser Podrick found Bran barely conscious in the Godswood"

A tiny piece of Arya thrummed with concern for her brother, but it wasn't enough to overwhelm her anger.

"Bran took Sansa into the past" she announced "He showed her the Wolfswood"

Brienne and Pod exchanged matching looks of confusion, while Ser Davos rubbed his beard.

"When you asked me to sit in the Godswood with you the other day - you were practicing weren't you?" said the Kings hand

Bran nodded "I was, but it wouldn't work with you"

"Why would you do that to Sansa?" asked Arya, curling her hands into fists "She's your sister"

Bran sighed "We should talk in private"

"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Ser Davos "You look a bit rough"

"I'm fine" said Bran nodding at his council "All of you can go"

Brienne looked as though she was going to protest but Davos shook his head and the three reluctantly left until it was just Arya and her brother.

"How is Sansa?" asked Bran

"So now you care?"

"I've always cared" said Bran "Sansa wanted my help. I did all that I could"

"You must have known that would hurt her" pressed Arya, a glare twisting her face

"I thought she would be able to stay distant, but her emotions got the better of her - an unexpected development"

"Sansa loves Tyrion. There was no way she could watch him being hurt without reacting"

"I underestimated how much she loved him" admitted Bran, wincing as he rubbed his head

Arya shifted awkwardly on the spot. Bran wasn't denying anything nor was he remorseful. He acted as though it was an experiment that had gone awry, rather than a cruel way to treat a family member.

"Did you know that was what she would see?"

Bran tilted his head, considering the question "I assumed so"

"You didn't tell Sansa"

"I wasn't certain"

"You left her alone in there"

The accusation hung in the air between them. That was what this came down. That Bran hadn't protected his sister - his pack.

"The old Gods didn't like what I was doing" said Bran, a frown tugging at his mouth "They allowed Sansa to see only what they wanted. They helped and punished her. I thought I could control it but the old Gods are stronger in the North that I am"

"Were you punishing her?" asked Arya, heat rising through her.

"No. Her guilt is her own doing"

Part of Arya wanted to shake her brother. Nothing he said had any emotion behind it; as if he felt nothing at all.

Arya sucked in a deep breath, trying to temper her anger - it was difficult when Bran sat watching her with distant eyes.

"If you knew she would see the Wolfswood why didn't you let me do it?"

"You love Tyrion too. Would it have hurt you any less?"

"No, but Sansa's suffered enough. She already feels guilty about what happened. I could have handled it"

"It had to be Sansa - only she could see what needed to be seen. The old Gods didn't like me showing her, but I doubt they'd have let me show you. The North is the old Gods home and Sansa is Queen; she is under their power"

"Did she see what she needed?"

"Time will tell" shrugged Bran "When the old Gods had finished with her she fell away from my control. I eventually found her again in Tyrion's childhood"

Arya's stomach churned uncomfortably. She wasn't sure what bothered her more - that Bran was speaking of losing their sister or that he was doing it so casually.

"Why did she end up there?"

"She had a desperate need to see Tyrion - she brought herself there"

"Do you regret it?" she asked quietly

"No. Sansa asked for my help and I did what I could. It's up to her now"

Arya shook her head "I don't mean that. Do you regret becoming the three-eyed raven?"

For the briefest moment a flicker of emotion passed through his dark eyes "Bran Stark had nothing left. He will never walk again - but he can fly"

"I don't think Bran Stark had nothing" she said, turning on her heel and towards the door "the three-eyed raven might"

* * *

Tyrion Stark.

Sansa could make him a Stark; if that was what he wanted.

She lifted her head to see her husband properly. When Arya left, Sansa had curled up on the bed, laying her head on Tyrion's chest before sobbing her heart out. Every time she closed her eyes she relieved what she'd seen in the Wolfswood - how did Tyrion live with it? He'd been nothing but kind to her, whispering reassurances and holding her against him as the cruelty she'd seen hit her full force.

At some point she'd drifted off to sleep, waking to find Tyrion's arms around her as he also slept. He'd looked tired when she saw him in the practice yard; he was healing but he wasn't fully recovered. Careful to not wake him Sansa lightly traced a finger down the side of his face, relishing the feel of his skin beneath her fingertip. His heart beat thudded steadily beneath her ear, soothing a few of her nerves.

Did he want to be a wolf?

The thought had plagued her since hearing Robin and Gawan's repeated taunts. She couldn't dismiss it as empty words; the evidence had been in front of her all along. Just the other week she'd heard his answer to Arya's question; which house would you want to be born into? He'd been so shy about it but he'd said Stark.

Her hand wandered to his hair, lightly stroking the soft ends. Guilt settled over her heart once more. Tyrion had been so unsure since coming North, stripped of his land and titles and banished to an unfamiliar place that had never been kind to him. Rather than reassuring him and making him comfortable in his new home she'd only furthered his loss of confidence - however unintentional.

A marriage before the old Gods was similar to that in the faith of the seven; the groom would cloak the bride with his house's sigil, bringing her under his protection. For their wedding she'd told Tyrion he would cover her with a Stark cloak and he'd agreed without a word of protest. There had been no lion sigils at their wedding; nothing at all to represent Tyrion or his family. How could he not wish to be something else when Sansa's actions had given him the message that being a lion wasn't good enough? Everything he'd done since being brought North had been to blend in; to hide himself amongst the Northerners.

Tears pricked at Sansa's eyes as she gazed at her sleeping husband; seeing the boy who'd once wanted to be a knight. He'd found little comfort in his own family - rejected by his father and sister for who he was. It was little wonder he'd changed himself to find acceptance in the North.

"You're a lion sweetheart" whispered Sansa "and I'm very proud of that. I'll make sure you are too"

There had been a few signs Tyrion wasn't entirely separated from his Lannister identity. When she'd insisted he use a proper seal he'd chosen the lion, though he'd used a Northern colour. For his name day both her and Arya had gifted him things with the lion sigil – hoping to show him they accepted him as he was. Sansa often found him huddled in the blanket she'd made for him, and she hadn't missed the slight smile whenever he saw the black banners with the golden lion in the hall. It was a good start, but Sansa would do whatever she could to make things right. Never again would she allow her husband to fall into such a poor state.

Gently, Sansa shifted on Tyrion's chest, tilting her head to examine him more closely. The Tyrion in the Wolfswood was the product of months of neglect and mistreatment. He'd been a shadow of his former self; a dying man.

It had only been seven weeks since the Wolfswood but some long overdue love and care had already made huge a difference to the lord of Winterfell. He'd filled out a little, no longer looking so gaunt and sickly. The tiredness in his face had diminished as he now went to bed with Sansa and woke with her in the morning. Gradually a light had returned to his green eyes that had long been absent, replacing the dull, distant look he'd worn since coming North. It had taken time and there was still a ways to go but he looked so much healthier already.

Arya had helped Sansa change into a simple gown and taken some of the braids out of her hair before she left. Tyrion had taken his tunic off before joining her in the bed, leaving him in only his breeches and under shift. She traced her hand lightly down his face and across his chest, soaking in every detail as she had the Tyrion in the Wolfswood. He was still too thin for her liking, and he'd seemed a bit lethargic the last few days. Her brow furrowed. He'd been working hard in the practice yard, and spending more time moving about the castle. Through his shift she could feel some lean muscle in his shoulders and arms. The training was helping a great deal with his injuries, but she didn't want him to wear himself out either. She made a mental note to make sure he ate a bit more. If he was putting a lot of energy into his sword practice then he'd need to eat more to keep his strength up.

"Seen anything interesting?"

Sansa's cheeks flushed red at her husband's deep voice. She was so lost in her thoughts she hadn't realised Tyrion had woken up – while she was running her hand over him. She glanced up at him, thankfully seeing a hint of amusement in his eyes. The last thing she wanted was to make him uncomfortable.

"Sorry" she said, offering a sheepish smile

"Were you looking for something?" he asked

"Just admiring my husband"

Tyrion snorted, but didn't comment. She felt one of his hands move to her hair, lightly brushing through it.

"How do you feel?" he asked

"Ok, I guess" she said "Better now I'm with you"

"Can I get you anything?"

Sansa shook her head "You're all I need"

"Then you shall have me" he said, corners of his mouth turning upwards "Apologies for falling asleep - I had every intention of watching over you while you rested"

"You're still getting your strength back my love" she said, brushing the side of his face "You look a little tired"

"I'm fine" he promised "you worry too much dear wife"

Warmth spread through Sansa at the term of endearment - she did love when Tyrion called her as his wife. The Queen dropped her head back onto her husband's shoulder, allowing herself a moment to enjoy the security he provided. For someone so unused to being cared for, Tyrion never hesitated to give comfort.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly "Seeing the past must have been a strange experience"

"It was strange" she admitted "I could see and hear everything, but I couldn't change any of it. I wanted to hold you and protect you but I couldn't. Every time I reached out to touch you my hand went straight through"

"What…how much did you see?"

Sansa's hand found his upper arm, rubbing soothingly as he held her against him. Since his return he'd gradually told her bits and pieces of his suffering, but now Sansa had seen everything; the few details he'd shared - and everything he hadn't. She would need to handle this carefully. As much as she wanted to discuss the horrors she'd witnessed, she was very aware Tyrion hadn't told her much of it. If he wasn't ready to talk about it she didn't want to bring it up. The panic on his face when he realised she'd seen the Wolfswood had been warning enough.

"I saw the night you were taken" she said "and when Robin and Gawan were speaking to you. I watched you plan with Rose and then the escape. It's no wonder the wildlings think so much of you - what you did was nothing short of heroic"

Tyrion tensed beneath her, waiting for her to continue. It was after the escape the true horror began.

"I saw them bring you back" she said softly "I saw them hurt you. I left you once to follow Robin and Gawan into the farmhouse"

"Suppose Gawan was skinning rabbits for fun"

"He was sharpening his knives" said Sansa, nuzzling into her husband's neck "Robin was in charge really. They didn't say anything we didn't know, but Robin said he'd been destroying my correspondence. Your theory was right"

Tyrion nodded, his fingers fiddling with her hair "They'd planned this for a long time"

"Robin wants to be King. He spoke to the guards about their 'cause' and how I don't have a right to rule just because my name is Stark"

The words left a bitter taste in her mouth. Months of her cold behaviour had played into their hands, giving them further evidence to sway people to their cause.

"You don't have a right to rule" said Tyrion "the people chose you to. They did not choose Robin Flint. Marrying you would have given him a cleaner path to the crown however"

"He'd have killed me eventually" said Sansa, a shudder going through her "probably after I gave him an heir with Stark blood"

Tyrion's arms tightened around her, but he couldn't deny it "The Northerners would have likely raised him to King if he was widowed. Arya would be the only other claimant to the throne. If I'd died in the Wolfswood, Robin would have tried to marry you again. He planned to comfort you over my death, and you wouldn't have known he orchestrated it"

The thought was like a dagger to her heart. She'd only narrowly avoided losing Tyrion - and wedding a monster.

"It was so close" she murmured "I was blind to what they were. I know you've forgiven me Tyrion, but I truly am sorry my love. If I could do things over again, I'd do everything differently"

"Oh? What would you change?"

He asked it casually, but Sansa could detect the insecurity behind it. The Queen tilted her head up, lightly kissing his jaw to reassure him.

"Firstly, I'd ask you to come North with me - to be my hand" said Sansa "I'd beg if I had to"

"Suppose I'd say yes. I do have a weakness for beautiful women"

"We would work together to rebuild the North. I'd need to take a husband - my council would insist"

It was then he tensed beneath her, as if subconsciously preparing for a rejection.

Sansa propped herself up slightly to find Tyrion's gaze.

She made certain she was looking him in the eye as she spoke "I would choose you as my husband every time. I'd ask you to marry me, and if you said no - I'd respect that"

At her words a smile spread across Tyrion's face, his green eyes brightening. She stroked her hand through his golden hair, savouring the feel beneath her fingers.

"That's not to say I'd give up" she said, her mouth curving upwards "I'd spend the rest of my days trying to convince you - eventually I'd wear you down. And if not I'd learn to live with a broken heart, never marrying at all"

Sansa leaned forwards, kissing his forehead "We wouldn't join in the bed unless we both wanted to. I'd spend the rest of my life loving you and treating you as you deserve"

"That's quite the fairy-tale" said Tyrion, his eyes glistening

"I'm only sorry it wasn't our reality" she said, familiar regret eating at her heart

They lapsed into silence and Sansa dropped her head next to her husband, burying her face in his neck. How she wished things could have happened like that. She was dimly aware of Tyrion fidgeting with something on the night stand, but she was far too focused on enjoying the feel of Tyrion entwined with her. There had been an awful moment in the past where she'd feared never escaping. Being trapped in that unending horror, unable to hold her husband - it would have been her own personal hell.

Tyrion's hand brushed the side of her face a moment later "If you asked me to marry you now Sansa; I'd say yes"

"And I'd be the luckiest woman alive" she said, tilting her head to look at him.

He wore a smile on his face, though there was an edge of nervousness in his gaze. Her brow furrowed, wondering what could have caused it when Tyrion gave her the answer. He lifted his right hand close to her face - one of her ribbons dangling in his grip.

"Since this is our second chance; or third depending on how you count things - I thought we could…maybe signify a new beginning" he said, quickly lowering his eyes when he finished

All the air fled Sansa's lungs as she gazed at the dark navy ribbon.

"We don't have to" he said quickly at her lack of response "I just thought…if we were both willing this time…"

Sansa covered his hand with her own, her heart pounding in her chest "Yes…yes, my love"

Tyrion nodded, relief covering his face that she hadn't rejected his idea. Sansa untangled herself from him and they rearranged themselves to sit beside each other in the bed. Tyrion was wearing only his breeches and under shift, while Sansa wore only a crumpled gown. It was just the two of them - no families, no expectations. They were both suffering from bed hair and Lyon was snoring in the corner. None of that mattered to Sansa as Tyrion lifted the ribbon to show her.

"I know we're already married, but I thought we could…renew our vows - just for us" he said, a tentative smile on his face "Whatever mistakes we've made our forgiven"

"Never to be repeated" she promised, her stomach fluttering "A fresh start"

Tyrion took her right hand in his left, holding their joined hands out before them. With his right hand he laced the ribbon around them; binding them together. She reached over with her left hand to help him tie the ribbon in a knot.

When it was done, he looked at her, a nervous smile on his face "I think we can dispense with the lengthy prayers. The septon would tell us to look at each other and say the words"

Sansa squeezed his hand, a wide smile covering her face.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..." they said in unison

"I am his and he is mine…"

"I am hers and she is mine…"

"From this day, until the end of my days" they finished together

Warmth pricked at Sansa's eyes as she lost herself in her husband's tender gaze. They'd been married twice, but this time the vows meant so much more. They'd both chosen each other - freely and willingly.

"With this kiss I pledge my love" said Tyrion, leaning towards her

Sansa melted into the kiss as the loose knot fell undone on their joined hands. The ribbon could fall away, but their souls would remain joined together.

* * *

Maester Wolkan paled as he read yet another letter that had been sent to lord Tyrion. Thankfully the lord of Winterfell had finally heeded his advice and stopped reading them - the content was stomach churning.

_I hope you still have your collar, my pet. If you've lost it I'll need to punish you. I hope you aren't too attached to your fingers._

_I'm getting closer to you every day little lion - it won't be long now._

_Your defiance when we were together was rather irritating. I've waited too long to hear a lion cry. One way or another you will cry for me._

For whatever reason lord Tyrion had persevered in reading them until finally giving up the charade that they didn't bother him. Now if lord Tyrion saw a letter from them he passed it straight to him. The old Maester was keeping all of the correspondence as evidence in his chambers in a closed box. The most recent were always on top but when he'd pulled them out earlier to examine them for any clues he may have missed, they were ordered randomly. Wolkan rubbed tiredly at his eyes, the signing of last night's trade deal had been a major event and after it was over he'd stayed up later than usual copying all the details into back-up documents. He must have mistaken the letters order in his tiredness.

While lord Tyrion had stopped reading the letters, the Queen and lady Arya hadn't – unfortunately there was very little to be learned from them. The only thing Wolkan had learned was the depths of cruelty those boys were capable of. He hadn't been overly fond of either of them while they were at Winterfell, but there had never been any sign of them capable of this.

A knock sounded on the door causing the Maester to straighten from his hunched over position, his bones cracking with the movement.

"Come in" he called, turning on the stool to greet his visitor

"Maester" greeted Arya Stark, stepping into the room "am I interrupting you?"

"Certainly not my lady"

The youngest Stark needed no further invitation as she joined him at the work bench, her sharp eyes scanning the letters.

"He's still getting them?" she asked

"There was another today" he confirmed, handing her the newest message "the content is much the same as the others"

Ayra's face was unreadable as she read the message before passing it back to him "I'm going to enjoy killing them"

"It is a sick mind that could write letters such as these" agreed Wolkan "Is there anything I can do for you my lady?"

The girl studied him for a moment before pulling over another stool to join him "What do you know about the three-eyed raven?"

"Very little I'm afraid"

"When you studied at the citadel you never saw any mention of powers like Bran's?"

The old man shook his head "I fear not my lady. The citadel contains vast knowledge though I fear its knowledge of the North is somewhat limited. Stories of white walkers, what lies beyond the wall – it's regarded as fantasy by most Maesters"

Arya nodded as though she expected that "Do you believe its fantasy?"

"I did" he admitted "Until I saw the white walkers for myself. I've seen dragons, direwolves and King Bran's power – it's hard to be a sceptic after that"

The girl grew silent and Wolkan waited patiently for her to speak. Nothing Arya did was without reason, and he was certain they were about to get to the reason for this visit. Something was bothering her.

"Do you think it's possible the three-eyed raven is evil?"

Wolkan raised his eyebrows "My lady, what makes you think that?"

Arya drew in a breath, her gaze studying him as if deciding how much to divulge.

"Bran brought Sansa to the past" she said after a moment "he showed her the Wolfswood"

A thousand questions exploded in his mind. What Arya was saying was beyond belief, yet everything he'd seen since he came into the service of Winterfell had opened his eyes to things he'd never thought possible. The Stark boy was strange - there was no denying that. He'd met him not long after the Starks reclaimed Winterfell and helped design his wheelchair.

"I trust the wheelchair is acceptable, lord Stark?" he'd asked

"I'm not lord Stark. I'm the three-eyed raven" he had replied, watching him with too old eyes "Thank you for your help Maester. You shouldn't blame yourself for Walda Bolton and her son's death. You tried to warn her to flee Winterfell and Ramsay"

"I-how could you possibly…?"

"I'm the three-eyed raven" the boy had replied, folding his hands in his lap "you will serve my sister well"

It was impossible but the boy had known about his attempt to convince Roose Bolton's wife to leave Winterfell after he'd watched Ramsay kill his own father. The woman had refused to believe there was any kind of danger from Ramsay who'd always shown her a charming face. Wolkan had heard about her and the babe's terrible death from the guards.

The old Maester rubbed at his beard, contemplating what Arya had just told him. He'd grown quite fond of the Starks. They were honourable rulers and serving them held none of the terror of serving the Bolton's.

"What did Bran hope to accomplish in showing her the past?" he asked

"Sansa wanted his help to stop Robin and Gawan. According to Bran that's all he could do"

"Did the Queen see anything that would help?"

Arya shook her head "No, she had to watch while they hurt Tyrion"

"You believe Bran showed your sister this to hurt her?"

The girl shifted on her stool, her mouth pulled into a frown "That's what I'm trying to figure out"

"What does Queen Sansa think?"

"She was so upset earlier" said Arya, a sigh escaping her "Tyrion sent me a note before saying they weren't coming to dinner tonight"

"Is there anything I can do for her?" he asked "I have essence of nightshade if she's in need of rest"

"I think she just wants to be with Tyrion. She said when she was in the past there was nothing she could do to change any of it. She couldn't touch or interact with anything"

"Ah - I understand" said Wolkan, nodding

The Queen in the North could be as terrifying as a blizzard when she wanted to be, but her family was her weak point. As reserved as Sansa Stark was, seeing her husband's agony and being unable to change it would surely be a traumatic experience.

"My lady, for all Bran may be different to who you once knew – he's still your brother. Surely he would not subject his sister to such an experience if he did not believe it necessary"

Arya's brow pulled downwards, considering his words "Bran is our brother, but I can't see any reason for showing Sansa that. She says there was nothing we didn't already know"

The Maester hummed, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the bench "Bran has vast knowledge at his disposal. What your sister saw may not prove useful right now, but is it possible it has a future purpose?"

"I don't know"

"Showing the past to Queen Sansa; was it simple for Bran?"

"He looked tired when I spoke to him. Brienne and Davos were worried about him" she admitted "Sansa mentioned the old Gods interfering with whatever he was trying to do"

Wolkan nodded, offering the girl a smile "I can offer no knowledge on the old Gods – but do you think your brother would give such effort to something simply to hurt his older sister?"

Arya's mouth pressed into a tight line as if weighing his words. It seemed to the Maester the youngest Stark had come to him in search of an ear for her concerns. Brienne and Davos were loyal to Bran, and she clearly didn't wish to disturb Sansa and Tyrion at the moment. Whatever was said to him was always in confidence – he would not repeat it. Even so he filed the information away. If the Queen was in a state of distress it was possible she may require something to steady her nerves.

"I hope you're feeling talkative tonight Maester, because I'm certainly not" said Arya, standing from the stool

Her eyes were unreadable and he wasn't entirely certain what conclusions she'd come to about Bran, nor would he ask. Both of the Stark girls guarded their inner thoughts with the fierceness of a wolf. They would not speak about something if they did not wish to. Lord Tyrion was somewhat easier to read in that respect. Where the Starks both hid behind their own cold masks when it suited them, Tyrion's emotions could be read in his every expression if you knew what to look for - it was what had made it so very obvious that he wasn't well upon his arrival at Winterfell.

"Dinner is still going ahead?"

"Tyrion's note said Sansa wanted dinner to go ahead as normal since we had guests. He said Sansa certainly wasn't up to it and he'd only convinced her to not go because I'd be there to represent house Stark" said Arya, the slightest pout covering her face

"Ah, so you will be entertaining the guests I assume"

"I'll be trying not to say something Sansa will make me regret. You will be entertaining the guests"

Wolkan raised an eyebrow "As you wish my lady; though I fear my dinner conversation is somewhat dry"

Arya snorted "So is Sansa's – they'll hardly notice a difference"

* * *

Sansa leaned into her husband, allowing his melodic voice to soothe her nerves as he read from an old book of fairy tales. His idea to renew their vows had been incredibly sweet, and the kiss they'd shared afterwards had been filled with an equal passion. Eventually Tyrion had pulled away and she'd let him go, keen to not make him uncomfortable despite the ache she always felt when they stopped.

Her mouth twitched into a smile as Tyrion changed his voice to match the story. He'd insisted they skip dinner and she'd agreed with only a few protests. No matter how forgiving Tyrion was, Sansa would never forgive herself. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his broken face staring back at her. Tyrion was doing his best to distract her from her dark thoughts and she cherished having him so close. He'd pulled out a battered book of fairy tales similar to the ones she'd read cover to cover as a child, insisting on reading to her. Each story involved a range of amusing voices and questionable accents, as well as several verses she was certain weren't there before. Tyrion was getting quite involved in his retelling of the bear and the maiden fair, the story growing more elaborate as he read.

"Oh, I'm a knight - prepare to fight, I'll never dance with a hairy bear" said Tyrion, changing his voice to match the maid turned knight of the story

While it may have been more popular as a song, Sansa had read the story as a child and didn't recall anything about a knight. Despite her best efforts to focus, Sansa's mind continued slipping into the past and all she'd seen. It was the branding that stood out. It had been the start of the horror and left a permanent mark on her husband's mind and body. Tyrion disliked showing his scarred back to anyone and Sansa made sure to not linger looking at it on the rare occasions when it was visible. Yet now she had a strange desire to see the mark she'd watched being burnt into her husband. As if its existence alone would prove the connection between the broken Tyrion of the past and the man sat beside her now. For in truth it was hard to reconcile the two – as if they were entirely different people.

It took her a moment to realise the room had gone quiet and Tyrion was watching her with increasing worry.

"Are you alright?" he asked, closing the book on his lap

"Sorry" she said "my mind got away from me"

"Don't worry – I'm sure you've heard these stories many times"

Sansa huddled closer to him "I rather enjoyed your retellings"

"Good" he said, a half smile crossing his face "I thought they were in need of an update"

"I don't recall the maid being a knight in the original bear and the maiden fair" she said "or being rescued by a one-handed knight"

"Does it not make for a better story?"

Sansa snorted "It was certainly more interesting. Where do you come up with these things? I used to read to Rickon and he complained my stories were boring because I read the actual story; he much preferred Bran's made up tales"

"I take inspiration from life. Nothing is more powerful than a good story" he said, a teasing grin on his face "though I will confess to borrowing that one. Jamie told me once how he rescued Ser Brienne from a bear"

The Queen's mouth fell open "What?"

"Brienne lived in Winterfell and never told you?" said Tyrion, his eyes turning thoughtful "Perhaps it's a painful memory. She'd been left at Harrenhal while Roose Bolton's men escorted Jamie back to Kings Landing. You can imagine what they planned to do with her. Jamie insisted on going back and found they'd thrown her in a pit with a bear and a wooden sword. He jumped in to aid her escape"

"No wonder she cared for Ser Jamie"

"Perhaps"

Melancholy descended on Tyrion and his eyes wandered to the battered trunk that held all that remained of his brother. After Brienne had presented it to Tyrion, he'd spent an hour or so sorting through it alone before asking her if it could stay in their chambers.

"Of course" Sansa had told him "this is your room too"

Tyrion had eyed the battered trunk with the Lannister lion sigil engraved on it "If you're sure"

Sansa wasn't entirely sure why he thought she'd object to the trunk, but she suspected it was to do with the Lannister sigil. He'd placed the trunk in the corner next to his draws and to her knowledge hadn't opened it since. Tyrion hadn't mentioned anything about the contents and she hadn't pushed him, despite her own curiosity. Guilt flared in her heart as she eyed his few meagre possessions. The book he'd been given by Arya and the ones Pod had brought him were sat on a shelf next to his draws. The box Arya had gifted him and the stuffed lion from Nessa sat atop his draws - his sword was also there, the golden thread glinting in the late evening light.

She wrapped her arm around Tyrion's shoulders drawing his attention.

"I saw something else in the past" she started "it was a memory of you"

Panic flared in his green eyes and Sansa forced herself to plough ahead. She wasn't entirely sure whether she wanted to tell Tyrion what she'd seen of his childhood – it was a far from pleasant memory. Yet she hoped it might spark a conversation with him; allow her to know every piece of her husband.

"What did you see?"

"It was your childhood. After seeing Robin and Gawan leave you in the Wolfswood, I begged for Bran to get me out of there. I couldn't take it anymore. Rather than returning to the Godswood I ended up in Casterly Rock"

"How did you know it was Casterly Rock?"

"There was red and gold everywhere; lion sigils decorating the walls"

"Fair enough" nodded Tyrion "So you saw my childhood home?"

"I was alone in the corridor" she said, tugging her husband closer to her "I heard voices so I followed and found myself in your father's study"

"A place best avoided"

Sansa smiled at Tyrion, pressing a kiss to his head "I saw you my love - when you were a boy. Your father was lecturing you; he'd found out about you practicing with a sword and took it away from you"

"I vaguely remember that" said Tyrion "it's blended together with all the other things he lectured me about over the years"

"You were so upset. When you left the room you were crying in the corridor, and then Cersei found you. The way her and your father treated you was awful"

"They both hated me" he said with a sigh, dropping his head onto her shoulder "it's a strange thing for you to have seen. Why would Bran show you that?"

"I don't know" she said, shaking her head "Jamie stopped Cersei taunting you though. He picked you up and carried you back to what I assume was his room"

Sadness flashed in Tyrion's green eyes "Sounds quite accurate. Jamie was the only reason I survived my childhood after all"

Sansa instinctively tightened her grip, rubbing her hand up and down his arm "He seemed like a good brother"

"He was" said Tyrion, drawing in a deep breath before plastering a smile on his face "So what did you think of Casterly Rock during your visit?"

The change of subject was expected but saddening all the same. On the odd occasion Tyrion spoke of his childhood he only ever recalled the jokes he'd played on Cersei or the few happy memories he had. Rarely did he speak of the venom he'd experienced at his family's hands. Sansa could only hope one day he might open that part of himself to her.

"It looked lovely" she told him "I could see the sea and beaches from the windows"

"You would like it there" he said, nostalgia filling his eyes "there's plenty of caverns and caves to explore around the castle - Arya would enjoy that. Jamie once found a tiny piece of beach separate from the main one after exploring one of the caverns. It was sheltered by all the huge rocks and the only way to find it was through the caverns. Cersei was particularly horrible to me one day so he showed it to me rather than her. Whenever I got upset I'd go there - only Jamie and I knew how to find it"

Sansa's heart swelled listening to Tyrion describing Casterly Rock. As a girl she'd dreamed of castles like that - where the sun shone regularly with beautiful views. It wasn't until she was older she appreciated the beauty of her own home.

"Whatever happened during the day, there was always something calming about sitting on the beach at night as the sun disappeared into the sea. I'd love to show you one-" said Tyrion before stopping abruptly

Loss flashed across his face for the briefest of moments before he hurried to correct his words. It was too late; Sansa had seen his expression and knew what he meant to say.

Showing her his childhood home was no longer something he could do. He was an exile; he'd lost Casterly Rock - as she'd ordered. It would be given to a new lord soon enough and all memory of the Lannister's would gradually fade. Bran might have offered to restore it but Tyrion had ultimately chosen her and Winterfell instead; accepting the loss of his childhood home as punishment.

"Uh-what I meant to say…"

Sansa cupped his face guiding him to look at her. Embarrassment flooded his green eyes for what he'd started to say.

"I'm sorry" she whispered, kissing his forehead

"No. Don't be, I just forgot" he said, forcing his mouth upwards into a pained smile "Did you see anything else of interest in the past?"

That Tyrion was deflecting the attention away from what he'd almost said was obvious, but Sansa had no desire to push him. The only thing she'd really learnt from the past was that it couldn't be changed. The sentence had already been passed, and Tyrion had accepted the punishment. Knowing Tyrion had chosen to stay with her did little to ease her guilt for taking so much from him however, but she would do everything possible to make him comfortable in his new home.

Sansa wrapped her arms around Tyrion, drawing him into her side "I saw the most adorable child"

"Oh?"

"Curly golden hair, bright green eyes - I wanted to pick him up so badly" she said, dropping her head against her husband "you were so precious"

Tyrion snorted "You can't mean me?"

"Of course I do!" she said "Who else would it be?"

"Jamie"

"Jamie did not have curly hair, nor was he as cute as you"

At that Tyrion laughed, a wide smile covering his face "Sansa Stark I do believe you are the only person who has ever considered me cute"

"I barely put Rickon down when he was born - if you were my brother they'd have never separated me from you. You would have been my baby and no-one else's"

"I can only imagine" said Tyrion, grinning at the thought

Sansa sighed contentedly, relishing the feel of her husband in her arms. Her mind was still struggling to right itself; to reconcile the lifeless Tyrion in the Wolfswood with the one she held against her. A piece of her refused to accept it, wanting to believe it had all been a bad dream - that her husband hadn't been degraded and abused. The more his injuries healed the harder it was to think of how close to death he'd been only seven weeks earlier.

There was so much to sort through and no time to do it. As tempting as it was to let the past slip away, Sansa couldn't afford to forget. What she'd seen in the Wolfswood was real, as much as she wished it had been a nightmare, and she knew there was only one way to solidify that fact in her mind.

* * *

Bran watched the hearth crackling, delivering both warmth and light into his chambers. The King heaved a sigh, rubbing his aching head.

Taking Sansa into the past had not gone at all as he'd hoped. While he'd suspected what she was going to see he'd planned on being there with her as a guide. The old Gods had soon shown him how pointless his plans were. Sansa had been left alone to face the past and then somehow ended up in Tyrion's childhood.

For a horrible moment Bran thought he'd lost his older sister. Her distress at seeing the Wolfswood had been overwhelming - her own desire to see Tyrion had taken her to his past before he found her.

"Can I get you anything, your Grace?" asked Podrick, standing in the corner of the room

The pounding in Bran's head was slowly lessening but his council were still worried for him. He'd insisted Davos and Brienne go to dinner - which he didn't feel up to. They'd agreed on the condition Pod stay behind to keep an eye on him.

"I'm fine" he replied "Where do you think Bronn has gone?"

"My guess would be a brothel, your Grace" said Pod, shifting uneasily "I'm sure he'll return by morning"

"He won't" said Bran flatly

"Guards can be sent to find him if you wish"

"I don't wish for anything anymore" said Bran, turning to look at his sworn shield "What do you wish for?"

"Your Grace?"

"Did I stutter?"

Pod reddened, glancing down at the floor "I wish to be a good man; to protect people who can't protect themselves"

Bran nodded "Some would say you already do that"

"I try to"

"Do you ever wish for more Podrick?" asked Bran, moving his gaze to the dark sky outside his window

He'd expected the young Knight to deny it – to claim he wanted nothing more than serving his King. Instead the soft reply surprised him "Sometimes, your Grace"

Bran nodded "Me too"

* * *

Tyrion's gaze studied his sleeping wife as he stood beside the bed. The Queen's mouth was pulled into a frown and exhaustion lay heavily over her delicate features. Despite the trauma she'd endured that day Sansa had still wanted to go to dinner and continue her Queenly duties, even though it was very obvious she was in no fit state to do so. He'd convinced his wife to stay in their chambers tonight and he'd spent the rest of the evening trying to draw her mind from the horrid things she'd seen and make her smile. He hated seeing Sansa upset. The Queen had done her best to regain control of her emotions but Tyrion knew it was hanging by a thread.

Sansa's tale of seeing his childhood had been fascinating, though it had stirred some well buried sentiment for his childhood home. When they'd married in Kings Landing he'd hoped to eventually take Sansa to Casterly Rock and away from Kings Landing, though he'd never gotten the chance. Speaking to her about Jamie and his home had been nice and for a moment he'd allowed himself to get carried away with thoughts of showing Sansa all the hidden places he'd enjoyed as a boy. The reality had soon sobered him however. Casterly Rock was no longer his home – soon it would be someone else's.

He'd known that since the moment the sentence was passed, but today was the first time it had really struck him. Sansa had noticed the moment – how could she not – and the guilt in her eyes had been painful to see. Bran had offered to restore what was taken, but accepting it would mean leaving behind what he'd built at Winterfell. Leaving behind Sansa.

Watching Sansa's sleeping face; Tyrion knew he had made the right choice. A castle, a hand of the king badge – it was all meaningless compared to Sansa. Nothing was worth losing her.

He brushed his hand across Sansa's cheek, lightly kissing her head as he tucked the covers around her.

His beautiful wife.

While renewing their vows had been his suggestion, a small part of him had feared Sansa would think it ridiculous. The guilt and self-hatred in Sansa's eyes as she lay on him had been too much to bear however. Tyrion had hoped the gesture would prove he'd forgiven her; that this was a new beginning for them. As much as her actions had hurt him, Tyrion didn't want Sansa to carry that guilt forever. She'd done her best to make amends - he trusted her.

Sansa had done her best to smother her feelings over what she'd seen with Bran but the trauma it had caused was clear enough. Her mood had shifted between sadness, distraction and pretending to be fine all afternoon. Eventually she'd grown tired and he'd insisted she sleep. Tyrion had every intention of joining her soon, but there was one task he needed to complete - it was something he'd put off for far too long already.

Turning away from his wife he made his way to the desk, setting up to write the letter he'd put off for months. Lyon padded over to him, bouncing his front paws onto his lap.

"Hello" he greeted, winding his fingers through the thick fur as the wolf licked at his face "I see you've been enjoying the bed when Sansa and I aren't around"

Lyon tilted his head to the side, his ears drooping.

"Don't look at me like that" said Tyrion, rolling his eyes "We saw you rolling around on the bed - and there's golden hair everywhere. It's either yours or mine"

The direwolf whined softly, green eyes gazing up at him.

Tyrion sighed, rubbing Lyon behind the ear "If you're going to play on the bed when we're not around, at least hide the evidence. Sansa thought my hair was falling out the other day!"

Lyon's ears perked up, licking his face once more before curling up at his feet. Tyrion wiped the drool from his face as he considered the task before him. The last time he'd seen Jon Snow had been when he convinced him that killing the woman he loved was the right thing to do.

_'Love is the death of duty'_

_'Sometimes duty is the death of the love'_

How do you write a letter to someone after convincing them to do such a terrible thing?

It took even longer than Tyrion imagined and it was well and truly night when he finished, but eventually he'd written the letter that should have been sent long ago.

_Dear Jon_

_I fear I don't know a good place to start, so perhaps a reassurance will suffice - your sisters are fine. Rest assured they are both well as is Bran, and they are not the reason for this long overdue letter._

_I am sorry._

_I've thought long and hard on how to possibly apologise to you, but for all the long-winded words and explanations I came up with nothing seemed as sincere as the simplest words._

_I am truly sorry Jon for what you had to do. I cared a great deal for Daenaerys, but part of me feared her - long though I denied it. What happened in Kings Landing was something I did not like to believe her capable of, though the signs were there if I'd been willing to see them. There are many things I regret, far too many for one letter to contain. The biggest of those regrets was what my actions or lackof made it necessary for you to do. In ending Daenaerys you likely saved countless lives and cleaned up the mess I helped to create._

_It's neither right nor fair that you had to be the one to do it, but in the end you were the only one who could._

_I know Arya has written to you often and Sansa writes as well, though they've yet to receive a reply. I'm fairly certain their letters will catch you up on whatever news you've missed._

_Gods, I hope you don't read this letter first. On the off chance you do, Sansa asked me to marry her and we were wed before the old Gods. I live in Winterfell now, and serve as its lord. It was entirely her idea, and I swear to you I will never hurt her. It's possible you'll never get this letter anyway and I doubt you would want to hear from me, but it seemed important to write it all the same._

_What happened to you was unfair. You should be here, in Winterfell with your family, not banished to the nights watch. Bran says you're happy with the free folk and I hope that's true. I should have lost my head for all my crimes, yet I was spared true punishment. I do not deserve to be Sansa's husband or Arya's brother. I shouldn't be the lord of Winterfell either, and I'm sorry it's me here and not you - but I love your sisters. I care for Bran too though he is based in Kings Landing and rather different these days._

_While I cannot change what has already been done, I do promise you one thing - I will protect them for you. It's hardly the same as you being here with your family, but I swear by all the Gods I'll keep them safe._

_I shall end my rambling here and leave you in peace - which is something I truly hope you finally have._

_Best wishes_

_Tyrion Lannister_

_P.S - Somehow I've acquired a direwolf pup. Perhaps if you ever come to Winterfell Ghost would like to meet him. His name is Lyon. They could go hunting together?_

Rereading the letter Tyrion decided it sounded far more desperate than he'd intended. He had no idea how much Jon knew of what had happened since Kings Landing or what Sansa and Arya had told him in their letters. Presumably one of them had told Jon that he now lived at Winterfell and had married Sansa. Adding the information seemed a good idea just in case they hadn't.

Tyrion folded the letter, sealing it with his lion sigil in black wax. At best Jon might reply someday if he ever returned to the wall. At worst he'd descend with an army of wildlings and kill him painfully for daring to wed his sister.

Either way, writing the letter had lifted some of the guilt from him. His remorse for Jon Snow's fate had hung over him like a dark cloud for far too long. Apologising for his role in what happened had seemed the only way to ever move on from it.

* * *

_After everything she'd seen that day, was a dreamless sleep really too much to ask for?_

_Apparently it was as Sansa found herself wandering alone through the countryside. Rolling hills interspersed with small lakes made up the landscape as she wandered towards a magnificent castle by the sea. The castle itself wasn't familiar but the Lannister banners hanging outside told her this was Casterly Rock. A tiny part of Sansa sparked with fear that she was once again in the past, but each time she looked at the castle parts of it changed. The past had been strongly defined and immovable; this was fluid – it was a dream._

_It was as she approached the gates she heard a desperate sobbing. Sansa followed the sound to see a familiar boy crying into his arms behind a bush not far from the gate._

_"Hello" she said, crouching down to speak to the child_

_The boy raised his golden head, wary green eyes observing her. Perhaps this dream wasn't so bad. Seeing her husband as a child had clearly left an impression on her as she watched the boy's tear stained face studying hers._

_"Who are you?" he asked, curling tighter into himself_

_"My name is Sansa"_

_"Did you come to laugh at me?"_

_Her heart twisted at the question "No. Why would I laugh at you?"_

_"I'm a dwarf. Everyone laughs at me"_

_Sansa swallowed thickly, offering the sad boy a smile "You're Tyrion Lannister aren't you?"_

_He nodded, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand._

_"I've heard you're a great lion – that this is your home"_

_Sansa had thought her words might cheer the child, but he dropped his gaze to the grass at his feet "Not anymore. They don't want me – nobody does"_

_She moved closer to the boy, lowering her head to see his face "I think you're better than them. You're a true lion aren't you?"_

_"Cersei says I'm not" he sniffed "I'm not allowed in Casterly Rock anymore. They hate me"_

_"I think they're very stupid" said Sansa, anger coiling within her "Would you like to come with me?"_

_"Where?"_

_"I live in a castle called Winterfell in the North" she said, offering her hand to the child "You can live with me – I'll look after you"_

_"I'm a Lannister" he said, puffing out his small chest "not a baby"_

_Sansa bit back a smile "You're certainly not a baby – you're far too clever. I could use a strong lion like you in Winterfell. Sometimes I get scared on my own"_

_The little Tyrion considered her words, before nodding his head "OK, I'll protect you"_

_Much to her joy the boy took her hand and they set off down the road together - away from Casterly Rock._

_The further they got from Casterly Rock the more nervous the boy became, fiddling with the edge of his shirt "Will I like Winterfell?"_

_"Oh yes" she promised "There's a lot of snow there. Have you ever seen snow before?"_

_"I read about it"_

_"You'll love the snow. We can play in it and I can show you how to build castles out of snow"_

_Her words did little to reassure him as the landscape blended and merged around them as they travelled. Tyrion soon grew tired as he stumbled along beside her, the look of fear in his eyes growing as they moved further from his home._

_"Can I carry you?" she asked, adding quickly "I get nervous and having you close will be sure to protect me"_

_"Ok" he agreed, nodding his head quickly as Sansa scooped the child into her arms._

_Instantly his arms wound around her neck and she rubbed his back to soothe him as the landscape grew decidedly more Northern. A light covering of snow began to cover the ground as she walked onwards, her little husband tucked safely in her arms._

_"Want to go home" he whimpered, a shudder going through him_

_"Don't worry sweetheart, we're nearly there" she promised, kissing his head "you'll be happy here. I'll take care of you, I promise"_

_Tyrion fell silent, though his arms tightened around her neck. Unease stirred within Sansa as the towers of Winterfell came into view – there was something off. The North was her home; it should have felt welcoming, instead an unspoken threat hung in the air._

_"Can I go home now?" asked Tyrion, tears spilling down his cheeks_

_"This is your home now little lion" she said, pressing him tighter to her_

_"I don't belong here" he cried, squirming in her grasp "I want Jamie"_

_Sansa's heart lurched "You do belong here. I'll take care of you Tyrion - I promise"_

_The boy cried and trembled in her arms as she headed towards the gates of Winterfell, murmuring about going home and not belonging here. Sansa merely clung on tighter, whispering reassurances and promises to the increasingly frightened child._

_It was at the gates where her dream turned to a nightmare._

_"Hello Sansa" called Robin, a smirk on his face "what brings you to my castle?"_

_"This is our home" she growled "You're not welcome here"_

_"Not anymore" said Robin, lifting a crown to his head "nice of you to bring a pet for Gawan though"_

_No sooner had the words left his mouth did powerful hands clamp hold of Sansa, as Gawan appeared in her vision - tearing Tyrion away from her. She fought to hold on to him, but he was quickly ripped away from her._

_"No!" she cried out as the crying boy was carried away by Gawan,_

_"Help me!" he cried, his hands reaching desperately towards her_

_Sansa fought with all she could, but she was as feeble as a new-born. Nothing she did could free her from the iron grip behind her._

_"Give him back!" she begged_

_Gawan deposited the frightened Tyrion at his feet, clamping hold of his shoulders as a beaming grin covered his face "Why would I do that? The little lion is going to have such fun with me"_

_Robin shrugged "Gawan wanted a pet to play with, and no-one's going to miss the imp anyway"_

_Heartbroken green eyes met hers, tears spilling from them "You promised to protect me"_

_"What'll it be first little man" asked Gawan, showing the boy an object in either hand "The hammer or the branding iron?"_

_"No!" she screamed, fighting to get free "Let him go. Leave him!"_

_"I think we'll start with the branding" said Gawan, clamping an arm around Tyrion to hold him still as he ripped his shirt from him "make sure you know your place"_

_"Stop, please stop" cried Sansa, tears flooding from her eyes as Tyrion's face twisted in agony as the hot iron was pushed into his back._

_"I promised to never hurt you!" sobbed the boy, betrayal in his voice "I kept my promise – why didn't you keep yours?"_

_"No, stop!" she sobbed, as Gawan waved the hammer in front of the child "Let him go – take me instead!"_

_"Oh I intend to" purred a deep voice in her ear_

_Icy terror gripped Sansa's heart as she turned to face the man holding her captive._

_"If you thought this had a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention" said Ramsay, his eyes burning cruelly into hers_

* * *

It was late in the night when Tyrion felt Sansa stir beside him. He'd expected her to have nightmares after her experience with Bran and a few times he'd noticed her squirming restlessly in her sleep. A brush of his hand over her forehead, whispering some words of comfort in her ear - the simple actions had been enough to keep Sansa asleep and ease the frown from her face.

It appeared Sansa was fully awake this time however, and Tyrion had been about to roll over to speak with her when he felt her hands lightly tugging the back of his night shirt down. The action stilled him instantly, his heart picking up pace in his chest.

Tyrion had tried to sleep lightly in case Sansa needed him, but he'd apparently dropped off completely for a little while. He was lying in his usual position facing away from Sansa when she began to fiddle with his clothing.

_'What's she doing?'_ he thought with increasing panic

The room was dark apart from the faint moonlight illuminating Sansa's side of the bed. Tyrion forced himself to remain totally still, breathing evenly as if he were still asleep. Whatever Sansa was doing she was taking care to not wake him.

He didn't react as her hand reached around him to open the top button of his night shirt. The style of his bed clothes was somewhat unusual but Esther had designed them for ease of wearing over his injuries. He continued wearing them as he preferred them to the shifts he'd previously worn and felt less exposed in bed - something Sansa was trying to change.

In the darkness of their chambers Tyrion was acutely aware of every movement Sansa made. Part of him wanted to show her he was awake, but a larger part of him was curious about what she wanted.

_'You renewed your commitment to her'_ sang the dark voice of his mind _'she's going to take you again'_

No - that wasn't possible. After everything they'd built together, he refused to believe Sansa would rape him again. The guilt for those vile acts swept through her eyes every time he pulled away from their kissing. Sansa regretted it - she wouldn't do it again.

Mercifully Sansa only undid the top button, before returning her attention to his back. This time she was able to ease the light shirt down enough to expose the back of his shoulder. It struck him then what she was doing.

The brand.

Familiar shame ate at his heart as his wife studied the mark. He understood now what she wanted. She'd seen the Wolfswood - seen how it had been done. For whatever reason, Sansa had wanted to see the brand and had waited until he was asleep to do it.

It made some sort of sense. Sansa knew he hated anyone seeing his back and would be uncomfortable letting her study it as she was obviously doing right now. Tyrion focused on maintaining his false sleep as Sansa's feather like touch traced the mark.

Was she ashamed of him? She'd told him the mark didn't bother her, that there was no shame in it - but that was before she'd seen how it happened. He'd been stripped, collared and forced on a bench while they branded him. Tyrion found his thoughts growing increasingly panicked as she studied him. A desperate part of him wanted to face Sansa and apologise - beg her to not send him away. Tyrion would not survive leaving Winterfell and the Starks, of that he was certain.

Before he could do anything, Sansa's fingers left his back to be replaced by her lips a moment later. It was the lightest of brushes, but it sent a tingle through his whole body that paralysed him. It was the same action she'd done when giving him a bath, but it was different now - knowing she'd seen the whole story.

Tyrion remained still as Sansa gently tugged his night shirt back into place and reached around him to fasten the button again. To his surprise she left her hand there, cuddling carefully into the back of him.

"I'm so sorry my love, I should have taken care of you" she whispered, kissing the back of his head "You're mine to protect - I won't fail you again, I promise"

As Tyrion lay there with Sansa's arm draped lightly over him, he found his eyes growing increasingly damp. How could he have thought his sweet wife meant him harm, or that she would send him away?

If she'd asked to see the brand he would have reluctantly agreed, but it would have been incredibly uncomfortable. Sansa had known that; it was likely why she'd tried to do it without his knowledge. He had no idea why she wanted to see it, and in truth it didn't matter.

Tyrion forced himself to concentrate on Sansa's warm breath tickling the back of his neck and her arm lying protectively over him – not the dark voice that haunted him. Listening to those thoughts had nearly cost him so much. Years of insecurities and hurt had almost led him out of Winterfell and away from Sansa. Just thinking of what he could have lost caused his heart to ache.

* * *

The sight of golden hair and green eyes was exactly how Sansa loved to start her mornings – though she could do without the wet nose.

"Lyon?" she asked, rubbing her eyes as the direwolf came into focus

He was sat on Tyrion's side of the bed, staring down his nose at her. Finding the wolf in bed wasn't unusual, but waking without Tyrion was. Panic wound through her as she moved to push herself upwards in the bed, only for Lyon to place his paw on her arm, a soft bark escaping him.

"What's wrong?"

Sansa went to move again and Lyon repeated the same action, tilting his head to one side as if to say 'You really want to play this game?'

This was strange behaviour, even for Lyon.

The Queen bit her lip, considering the situation. Lyon appeared to be following orders, and the only person who could give him orders was Tyrion. If anything was wrong with her husband, the direwolf would likely sense it – she could at least assume Tyrion was ok. Glancing at the bed covers, she noticed Tyrion's lion blanket had been tucked around her. She wound her hand into the thick material, tracing one of the lions.

"Is Tyrion alright?" she asked the wolf, who continued to stare at her

Sansa reached out to pet him, and he endured it with barely concealed distaste – glancing at the door as if expecting Tyrion to rescue him.

Deciding to stay in the bed for now, Sansa turned her mind to where her husband could have gone. Since his return from the Wolfswood they always went to bed and woke up together. Waking to find him gone sent her mind into a spiral of increasingly horrible possibilities.

She hadn't missed the loss in his eyes when they spoke of Casterly Rock yesterday. Tyrion had tried to hide it, but Sansa could see through him. Was that where he'd gone - to accept Bran's offer and leave her? Sansa's throat constricted until she could hardly breathe.

No. That couldn't be possible.

Tyrion wanted to stay; they'd renewed their vows.

A chill wrapped around Sansa as her nightmare flashed before her eyes. It had been a pleasant dream until things started to go wrong. The little Tyrion's tears as she took him away from his home to a strange place; those creatures snatching him from her arms – it may have been a dream but the grains of truth it contained couldn't be denied. When she woke from the nightmare Sansa had given into the thought that had plagued her all afternoon. She had to see the brand; it was the only way she could think of that would anchor the horror of the Wolfswood to reality. As real as it had seemed when she was trapped in the past, Sansa found her mind already starting to file it away as a vivid nightmare. That couldn't be allowed to happen – it was real and she could never forget that.

Fortunately Tyrion had fallen asleep with his back to her and hadn't stirred as she eased his shirt down to see the evidence.

There it was; burnt into his shoulder.

The moonlight had allowed her to see the shape that was permanently etched into him, and Sansa had traced it with as much pressure as she dared. It was fortunate Tyrion had slept soundly; explaining what she was doing would have been incredibly awkward and she was terrified of making him uncomfortable around her. The fact he willingly kissed and held her was already far more than she deserved.

_'He's going to leave you'_ whispered Ramsay's voice_ 'I'd have never left you'_

Sansa screwed her eyes shut, breathing in the scent of the blanket that reminded her of Tyrion. He wouldn't leave – this was his home.

_'Lions don't belong in the North'_ warned Cersei

"Enough" mumbled Sansa, willing the voices to leave her be

Lyon huffed, nudging her with his paw as if to silence his prisoner.

Where was Tyrion? After making sure she had every curve and line of the brand committed to memory she'd whispered both an apology and promise to her sleeping husband. Normally Sansa wouldn't go near Tyrion in the bed unless he came to her first or willingly accepted her presence, but she couldn't bear to part from him after her nightmare and had tentatively cuddled against his back with her arm over him.

Sansa's stomach twisted violently; had she made him uncomfortable? The Queen tried to sit up once more and Lyon jumped up with both paws landing on her in warning.

"I want Tyrion" she said, swallowing thickly "I need to know if he's ok"

Her jailer was immovable however, glaring at her with green eyes that reminded her too much of her husband.

* * *

"I can't believe how long it took you to decide" said Arya, glancing sideways at him as they made their way through Winterfell

"It was a difficult decision" defended Tyrion

"You're happy with this?"

"As satisfied as I'm going to be"

Tyrion carefully adjusted the plate balanced precariously in his good hand. It was fortunate Arya had come across him really – he would have never been able to carry all this food himself. Sansa had been sound asleep when he woke up and Tyrion had dressed quickly with the plan of bringing Sansa a hearty breakfast. Of course, the servants brought them breakfast every morning, but he'd wanted to surprise his wife by doing it himself. Aside from that she'd eaten very little yesterday and food was important - as she was fond of reminding him. Upon arriving in the kitchens he'd faced the dilemma of what Sansa would enjoy the most; a problem that had consumed him for a solid twenty minutes before Arya had arrived and sped up the process.

Arya was carrying several plates with an inhuman grace as they climbed the stairs. He'd gone to take a plate in each hand and his left had cramped so badly he'd ended up only carrying one.

Tyrion slowed down as they approached the door, glancing uncertainly at his plate of food "Do you think Sansa will like this? Maybe I should bring something else too"

"Don't even think of turning around Tyrion" warned Arya, stepping behind him to block his path "breakfast is supposed to be eaten in the mornings and if you go back to the kitchens now, we'll be choosing lunch instead of breakfast"

"Fine" he relented, turning to the door

He eased the door open in case his wife was still asleep and the sight that met him was rather unexpected.

Tyrion had left Lyon in charge while he went to the kitchen, with orders to keep Sansa there until he returned. He'd been gone far longer than expected, and his direwolf had taken his mission more seriously than he'd imagined.

The golden wolf was sat on top of Sansa, staring down at her as the Queen conversed with him.

"...all I'm saying is a schedule will help. You get the mornings, I get afternoons and we can share evenings. Nights will be mine, but you can join us occasionally"

Sansa was quite oblivious to him and Arya stood in the doorway as she appeared to be making some kind of plan with Lyon. The wolf looked less than impressed, his ears flattening as if insulted.

"We need to share" insisted Sansa "this arrangement could give us both what we need"

Tyrion was well and truly confused when a laugh broke from Arya beside him. The girl's eyes shone brightly with amusement as the sound drew Sansa's attention.

"Tyrion!" called Sansa, relief flooding her face at the sight of him

"Hello Sansa" he answered, shooting her a smile

"Oh Gods Sansa, please tell me you weren't doing what I think you were" wheezed Arya, struggling to contain her mirth

Her sister's face flushed a bright red as she turned her gaze to Arya "This was your idea!"

"What idea?" asked Tyrion, looking between the sisters

"I suggested Sansa negotiate a custody arrangement with Lyon" snorted Arya

Tyrion's brow furrowed "Custody of what?"

"You"

Arya looked thoroughly amused as she carried her plates to the table and set up for breakfast, while Sansa's face had turned almost as red as her hair. Lyon was still pinning her to the bed, and Tyrion quickly deposited his own plate before heading towards his wife.

"Were you negotiating for me dear?" he teased, standing at her side of the bed

The Queen groaned, covering her face with her hands.

Turning his attention to Lyon, he wound his fingers into his friend's fur "Good work Lyon. The debt will be paid as agreed. Nessa is waiting downstairs to take you out to hunt"

The wolf claimed an ear rub from him, before leaping off Sansa and sauntering out of the room. The Queen was still refusing to show her face, and Tyrion leaned on the bed so his head was next to her ear.

"You needn't negotiate for me wife" he whispered "I am yours after all"

One of Sansa's blue eyes peaked out from between her fingers, mumbling "I would have won that negotiation"

"Of course" he agreed, nodding his head "Do I get to see the rest of your face now?"

Sansa finally pulled her hands from his face and to Tyrion it appeared she'd been crying at some point.

"Are you alright?" he asked, taking hold of her hand as she sat up

"I'm fine" she said, offering him a smile "Are you going to explain why I fell asleep with a lion and woke up with a wolf?"

"You were asleep when I got up and I thought you'd like a nice breakfast"

"That doesn't explain why Lyon was holding me hostage"

"I didn't want you to worry so I left Lyon as guard. You were worried though, weren't you?"

Sansa bit her lip, looking somewhat embarrassed "I was afraid you'd left me"

"Never" he said, kissing her hand "This is home"

"Always" she said quickly, brushing her hand through his hair "I'm being silly my love. I had a nightmare and it's lingering, that's all"

Tyrion nodded "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, thank you. It was just a dream"

He didn't really believe that, but if Sansa didn't want to talk about it he wouldn't push her. Tyrion understood better than most the horrors your mind could inflict on you.

"If you're sure" he said, squeezing her hand "Ready for breakfast?"

"Sounds lovely" she agreed, shooting him a smile as he handed her the robe she used in mornings

The Queen stood, tying it around her slender figure, before sweeping down to kiss him. Tyrion eagerly met her lips with his own; returning the sign of affection.

"I rather missed waking up with you" she said, pulling away

"There's always tomorrow" he replied, losing himself in her blue eyes that held such warmth for him. Sansa appeared equally absorbed, staring at him as if he were some precious thing and not a little monster

"Are you two going to eat, or stare at each other all morning?" called Arya. The younger Stark sat ready at the table, lazily twirling a fork through her fingers.

Tyrion rolled his eyes, taking his wife's hand "I hope you don't mind, I picked up a stray on my travels"

"If I hadn't found him, he'd still be stood in the kitchens debating what you'd prefer for breakfast" shot back Arya, as they took their seats opposite her

Sansa's eyes widened as she took in the wide spread of dishes including bread, bacon and sausage.

"Are we having a feast?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him

Heat crept into Tyrion's face as he rubbed the back of his neck "You had a hard day yesterday, and didn't eat much…"

His wife's eyes brightened, a gentle smile playing over her face "This is very sweet, my love"

Much to Arya's delight they finally ate breakfast, trading idle conversation between them as they enjoyed the meal. Tyrion found himself observing his wife as they ate. She was doing her best to project a Queenly face, but it was obvious enough yesterday's experience had left her rattled. As amusing as her conversation with Lyon had been, it had certainly shone a light on her own insecurities. Sansa worked hard to make sure he didn't doubt her feelings towards her, and Tyrion had no intention of allowing her to doubt his. Tonight's surprise would hopefully go some way to prove his commitment to her.

It was at the end of the meal when Arya finally broached the subject of yesterday.

"Are you feeling better today Sansa?"

"Yes, thank you"

Arya nodded "Surprising - because you look awful"

The Queen narrowed her eyes "Excuse me?"

"You better not be thinking about leaving this room today"

"I have duties Arya"

Tyrion sighed. When Arya had come across him in the kitchens she hadn't been in a particularly good mood. She'd spared few words for it but Bran was clearly the source of irritation and Tyrion could only assume her talk with him hadn't gone well. However annoyed she was with her brother, she'd been nothing but concerned about Sansa - particularly after seeing her in such distress yesterday. Tyrion more than agreed with Arya's concerns; they both knew Sansa was going to pretend to be fine. Unable to leave his sister on her own, he'd asked Arya to join them for breakfast. A moody Arya stalking around the castle alone was hardly going to end well. They were both in agreement that Sansa should take the day off, but for reasons unknown Tyrion had decided to let Arya talk to Sansa about it - a decision he already regretted.

"So you're totally fine after watching your husband being brutalised by your former friends?"

"Of course I'm not" said Sansa, her voice dropping dangerously low "and they will die for every insult, every injury and every indignity they inflicted on him"

Heat ignited in Tyrion's chest at the protectiveness in his wife's voice. He didn't think he'd ever quite get used to being loved as Sansa loved him - unconditionally and without shame. Tyrion reached out, covering her hand with his own.

"What Arya's trying to say is; we're worried about you"

Sansa's face softened "You don't need to worry about me, I'm fine"

"I do believe worrying for your welfare is one of the many privileges of being your husband" he said, gazing into her blue eyes "You've been working non-stop and I've been told by a very trusted source that's not healthy behaviour. Please, won't you take the day off?"

"Tyrion, I'd like to but I'm supposed to hold court today. There's a back log of people who need to see me"

"Don't think about duty" he said "do you feel up to it? If you held court today, would you be giving it your full attention?"

Sansa held his gaze for a moment longer before her shoulders slumped in defeat "You're right. A distracted Queen serves no-one well. There are merchants waiting who've travelled to see me and I don't want to disappoint them"

Tyrion pressed his mouth together, considering the options. It wasn't something he wanted to do at all, but Sansa desperately needed a break. At the very least he should offer.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he ventured "You need to rest and if there's any way to make that choice easier for you…"

Sansa's blue eyes brightened as she turned her hand over to grasp his "You're right, I do need some time. Would you, maybe, cover my court session?"

Tyrion's mouth went dry, but he forced a smile "Of course. I am yours to command, my Queen. Though I'm not entirely sure how happy your petitioners will be seeing me rather than you"

"You're the lord of Winterfell and you'll be acting with my authority" said Sansa, squeezing his hand "Whatever decisions you make will have my full backing"

A knot of tension coiled in Tyrion's stomach. He'd once enjoyed the power of ruling; of showing his mind was as sharp as any sword. Now the thought of being in such a position terrified him, particularly since Sansa was placing such trust in him. His own authority as lord of Winterfell was daunting enough.

He swallowed thickly "We have an agreement then. You will take the day to recuperate and I will do my upmost to cover your duties for the day"

"Deal" said Sansa, leaning forwards to seal it with a kiss.

Tyrion savoured the kiss, forcing his mind to focus on the trust Sansa was placing in him and not the ghosts of his past failures.

The Queen pulled back, offering him a warm smile "You'll do great sweetheart - believe in yourself"

"Hold it right there" called Arya, drawing both their attention to their forgotten breakfast guest. She had her arms crossed; glaring at her older sister "I just spent five minutes trying to convince you to take a day to rest and all I got was frostbite. Some sweet words and pouting from Tyrion and suddenly you're all for it?"

Sansa shrugged "Saying no to you is easy, you have a complete lack of charm - unlike my husband"

"I can teach you if you wish little sister" said Tyrion, shooting her a grin across the table

"I'll stick to my approach, thank you very much" said Arya "Unlike you big brother I can't pout at Sansa and melt her icy walls"

"I do not pout"

"You're doing it right now"

"No, I'm not!" he insisted, turning to Sansa for support

A soft laugh fell from her as she brushed her hand through his hair "Don't worry my love - I find it very endearing"

The sound of Sansa's laugh filled Tyrion with lightness as he leaned into her touch "Arya doesn't appreciate my many charms"

"I must be immune to you" said Arya, rolling her eyes

"I'll wear you down" he promised, eyes sparking with mischief "I have an infinite capacity for that"

* * *

Ser Davos sighed, rubbing his beard as the King laced his fingers in his lap - a thoughtful frown tugging at his mouth.

"Apologies your Grace" said the old Knight "I shouldn't have let Bronn wander off in another kingdom"

"You couldn't have stopped him"

"Aye, I aint much of a fighter" agreed Ser Davos "Thought he'd be back this morning mind"

Bran's mouth twitched in amusement "Did you?"

"He's master of coin - got a duty to you"

"I hardly inspire devotion" said the young King "I fear I've rather neglected the six kingdoms since coming North"

The older man sat back in his chair, enjoying the warmth of the hearth in the Kings chambers. Working from the North was even more difficult than in Kings Landing. Samwell wasn't here to offer his knowledge and Bran had spared little interest for the affairs of Westeros since arriving here.

Nonetheless he smiled at Bran "I wouldn't trouble yourself your Grace. I've heard reports the six Kingdoms are still standing"

"No thanks to my efforts" said Bran, shifting in his wheelchair "Our time in the North is coming to an end Ser Davos. We will leave in four days' time"

"As you say. What of Ser Bronn?"

"He'll be back by then"

Bran didn't volunteer how he knew and Ser Davos didn't ask - he'd found things were simpler that way.

"There's no rush, your Grace. You don't get to see your family much. If you'd rather we stay longer I don't think Samwell will destroy Kings Landing"

The boy smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes "Thank you - but my sisters will be eager to see me gone"

Sympathy wound through Ser Davos. It was easy to forget how young Bran was and how much time he spent on his own. As much as he wanted to reassure the young man, Davos suspected he was right. Their time at Winterfell had been somewhat fraught, with both the Stark sisters growing more annoyed with Bran.

"I'm not sure that's entirely true. Arya was certainly annoyed yesterday, but I doubt she'll hold onto it"

A humourless laugh fell from Bran "You'd be surprised how well Ayra holds onto things. We have a few days left and there are some family matters I need to deal with before we leave. I trust you will make the arrangements to leave and continue to cover the absent Kings duties"

"Certainly, your Grace" said Ser Davos, inclining his head

"Good. The Godswood drained my strength yesterday and I will need to recover it for what comes next"

Unease crept down the onion knight's spine "What does come next?"

"The end of our visit to Winterfell" said Bran, his eyes growing distant "I wish to spend some time with Tyrion before we leave. My new brother seems to have been avoiding me"

"I'd say he's been avoiding all of us"

The corner of Bran's mouth twitched upwards "Perhaps I should reassure him Bronn won't kidnap him from his bed"

Ser Davos sighed "Aye, Ser Bronn was rather insistent on doing so. He refuses to believe lord Tyrion could possibly be happy here"

"Happier than he would have been as my hand" said Bran "I fear your duty to me is a heavy burden Ser Davos"

"It's a great honour my King" said Ser Davos "though small council meetings are enough to send me North of the wall"

The three-eyed raven smiled before turning his attention to the flames dancing in the hearth. Over the months of serving him Ser Davos had come to see the different sides of Bran. His mood often shifted from distant and all-knowing to lonely and uncertain. Ser Davos did his best to serve him and offer his ear; he'd hoped coming to Winterfell might brighten his mood but it had only darkened it - as if Bran was preparing for something unpleasant.

The onion knight slumped in his chair, a familiar headache starting. He didn't envy Bran at all. Over the years Ser Davos had learned knowing too much could often be more dangerous than ignorance.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

The great hall was well and truly packed as Tyrion took his seat on the raised platform in front of Sansa's throne. While he and Sansa usually held court separately to see their own petitioners, today's session would combine both groups as Tyrion covered the Queen's duty. Whenever Sansa's council were at Winterfell she would ask one of the lords or ladies to join her for each court session to offer advice and ideas. It was a clever idea that Sansa had likely learned from her father. Lord Stark was well known for dining with a different banner man each night, and it was a simple way to keep strong relations with other houses. Aside from that, the visiting lord may offer a unique perspective on the issue at hand. Lord Cerwyn was supposed to join Sansa today, and to Tyrion's immense relief the young lord seemed equally happy to join him. While lord Cerwyn lacked the experience that lady Tallhart could have provided had it been her turn, Cley would provide a friendly face if nothing else. Maester Wolkan would be present as he always was to run the Queen's court sessions.

"Aren't you gonna sit on the throne?" asked Nessa, practically bouncing with excitement. While the girl always helped Tyrion run his own court sessions, the news she would be helping him to run the Queen's session had her far more excited than he was.

"I'm quite alright on my usual chair"

Nessa's brow knitted together "The Queen said you could"

Tyrion smiled at her innocence - the girl couldn't fathom why he wouldn't want to sit on the throne, after hearing Sansa tell him he was welcome to.

"Lannisters and thrones don't go together" he said, dropping his voice conspiratorially "besides, it's made for Sansa's long legs; not my short ones"

The girl giggled as Lyon bounced his paws into his lap.

"You can't sit on the throne either" he told his wolf, his ears drooping at the news

"Are you ready my lord?" asked the Maester, moving to stand beside him

Tyrion drew his gaze from the friendly faces around him to the huge number of petitioners waiting to see him. Some he recognised as the small folk who he regularly saw, but there were many strangers in the sea of faces. Some were watching him curiously, while others wore scowls - who was he to represent the Queen in the North?

Tyrion swallowed thickly, the weight of responsibility settling heavily over him. Several guards were posted around the room, including Brice who shot him a grin across the hall. His gaze moved to Cley Cerwyn sat off to the side of the platform. The young lord nodded reassuringly and Tyrion turned his attention to Wolkan once more.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be" he said

Nessa jumped to attention, taking up position over to his left as Lyon sat obediently at his side. Sansa had suggested he wear his sword and it sat awkwardly between his leg and the chair.

_'This is for Sansa'_ he thought, as Wolkan called the hall to order

"Let it be known, Queen Sansa is absent due to important business with King Bran and his council. Her Grace sends her apologies" said Wolkan, his voice carrying through the hall

It wouldn't do for people to think the Queen was unwell; Bran's visit provided an easy and believable excuse. Muttering broke out in the crowd at the announcement and Tyrion could feel the attention of the room burning into him.

"In her absence she asks that those who wished to see her bring their petitions before the lord of Winterfell, who is acting with the Queen's full authority"

The muttering grew louder and Tyrion found himself sinking into his seat as the Maester stepped aside to officially begin the session. He'd asked Arya if she would like to join him, but she'd claimed she'd rather cut her fingers off with a spoon than sit through a long court session. Tyrion had tried to persuade her to no avail.

"What if the petitioners rebel against me?" he'd asked as soon as the door shut behind him and Arya and they made their way down the corridors

"They won't" she'd said

"Having a Stark there would reassure people"

Arya snorted "Reassure them of what?"

"That I'm not the enemy"

"If they haven't figured that out by now there's no hope" said Arya, throwing her arm around his shoulders "You'll be fine big brother. If anyone bothers you give me a list later"

"I wouldn't need to give you a list if you were there"

Arya had flicked him on the forehead, a smirk covering her face "You volunteered to cover Sansa's duty – I didn't. Besides you already owe me enough for tonight"

Arya had a point; he had willingly offered himself up for this task. Both she and Sansa seemed to believe he was capable of doing this, and at one time he might've been – yet all he could think about was disappointing another Queen.

_'The next time you fail me, will be the last time you fail me'_

Daenaerys words whispered through his mind and for a moment Tyrion swore he could smell burning flesh. The sensation nauseated him but it disappeared as suddenly as it came. It was too late to back out now. He was in position and the first petitioner was coming towards him. The man was a local merchant from the village. Tyrion breathed a little easier; he'd seen him before.

"M'lord" started the man, bowing his head "I run a stall in the village that sells furs and blankets"

Tyrion nodded "Not far from the tavern if I'm not mistaken"

"Aye m'lord" said the man. He was thin and wiry, no more than thirty with scraggy brown hair that fell to his shoulders "took over the business from me father"

"What can I do for you?"

"Some of my stock gets imported from the six kingdoms. Lord Manderly receives it at White Harbour and it gets sent on to me, but now all my deliveries are late or not coming at all. I'm running out of stock m'lord – I have a new babe to feed..."

"How long has this been going on?"

"A few weeks m'lord. Before that everything was simple. I had the same deal me father had with White Harbour"

"Has there been any issues with payments?"

"No, m'lord - I've never missed paying for me goods. They aint given me any reason for it neither"

Tyrion ground his teeth. This was a political move. Lord Manderly kept White Harbour on a strict schedule and there was no reason things shouldn't still be running smoothly. If he was dragging his heels it could only be in support of house Glover. It was subtle, but lord Manderly was attempting to show his power.

Turning his attention to the room at large, Tyrion spotted several other merchants from the local village amongst the crowd.

"Have any other merchants experienced the same issues?" he asked

Immediately several heads bobbed up and down, and Tyrion's blood boiled. Showing solidarity with house Glover until Robin and Gawan were brought to justice was one thing, but whatever political play they were making was damaging the livelihoods of people already struggling to get back on their feet after years of war.

"Step forward if your reason for being here is the same as this man" he said

The small folk who came forwards ranged in age from the young to the very old, both men and women. All looked terrified as they joined the first man – as though expecting their heads to roll. There were twelve merchants in the group. Some he recognised quite easily from the village and they appeared more at ease before him than the ones he didn't recognise.

"At the end of this session you will see Maester Wolkan and he will take a list of what goods have been delayed or not received from White Harbour. Whatever loss of profit you've suffered will be paid back to you in double and charged to house Manderly. If this continues they will be charged triple" he decided

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Cley and Maester Wolkan nodding approvingly as the small folk before him bowed their thanks.

"Thank you, m'lord" said the first man, sagging in relief "I can feed me family"

Tyrion nodded "This will not be allowed to continue and I will bring the issue to the Queen's attention as well. Be warned that any attempts to manipulate this ruling will be punished accordingly"

"Certainly, lord Tyrion" said an older woman, bowing her head "we only want to keep our business going"

"I shall see that you do"

The court session moved on and Tyrion dealt quickly with several minor issues. As he worked his mind kept returning to White Harbour. Lord Manderly was far more placid than lord Glover but the two had worked closely together while they were at Winterfell and appeared to be working together now. The delays at White Harbour were a power play - a subtle reminder to Sansa that they could cause problems to her reign. Tyrion's stomach stirred uneasily knowing he would have to tell Sansa of this development. He knew how tirelessly she worked for the North, yet these other lords thought they could add more to her burden? Tyrion swallowed down his anger, refocusing on his court session.

A young woman had just stepped forwards at Wolkan's invitation when an older man with greying red hair stormed from the crowd, barging past the woman. Much of his face was taken up by a messy beard, but Tyrion didn't miss the frown he wore.

"What is the meaning of this?" he barked, glaring at the lord of Winterfell

"This is a court session" said Tyrion slowly "the young lady you've just knocked into is about to speak with me"

"I'm a merchant from Barrowton, I don't have time to hear the pleas of small folk!"

The man's clothes were better quality than most merchants, and as Tyrion didn't recall seeing him before it was likely he was one of Sansa's petitioners. While the man was possibly a better off merchant than most - he was still small folk. A fact Tyrion would endeavour to remind him.

"Your petition is more important than the rest of the people here today?"

"Aye, I'm a silversmith"

"Do you have a family to feed? A home to maintain?"

The man nodded "Of course"

"Good. I'm fairly certain the lady you so rudely pushed aside also has people depending on her, and her own concerns which are equally deserving of my attention. Your petition matters as much to me as everyone else's in this room and not an ounce more"

The merchants face pinched in anger "How dare you? I came to see the Queen, not deal with you Lannister"

"Are you hard of hearing? Maester Wolkan explained why Queen Sansa is absent. You can wait your turn and speak to me with respect or you can leave with whatever complaint you have" said Tyrion, narrowing his eyes at the merchant

"You expect me to waste my time to speak to you imp?"

"Careful now" he warned as Lyon's fur bristled at his side "I may be used to insults but they do grow tiresome"

The merchant looked around him for support, only to find he had none. Many of the other petitioners were openly glaring at him while others appeared irritated with the interruption. In all honesty Tyrion had expected more complaints, yet the Northerners didn't appear too put out at seeing him rather than the Queen.

"Hurry up!" called one man, glaring at the merchant

"Aye, we need to speak to lord Tyrion" added another

Faced with the crowd turning on him the arrogance fell from the man's face as he visibly shrank before him. The crowd's reaction had the opposite effect on Tyrion, who straightened in his seat to address the man.

"Are you going to wait like everyone else, or shall I have you escorted out?"

The man's face fell, muttering "Apologies m'lord - I'll wait my turn"

With a half-hearted bow the man shuffled off to join the queue waiting to see him. As he moved to the back of the hall a very old woman leaning on a stick rapped it against the back of the man's legs on his way past her. The merchant stumbled forwards, his face glowing red at the sniggering that broke out in the hall.

Perhaps he could get through this. No-one else in the great hall seemed eager to follow the merchant's example at least. Tyrion nodded to Wolkan who once again beckoned the young woman forwards. When Tyrion arrived for the court session he'd instructed Maester Wolkan to alternate the petitioners, so he would see one of the small folk from his own court followed by one of Sansa's petitioners. While this had initially caused some grumbling from the more prominent merchants it had soon died out as the session moved on.

The young woman standing before him looked nervous with the eyes of the room on her.

Tyrion shot her a smile "What can I do for you?"

* * *

As soon as Tyrion and Arya left, Sansa got to work.

The Queen may be taking a break from her duties, but Sansa wasn't going to remain idle. Truthfully she'd been relieved when Tyrion offered to cover her duties; there was no way she would be able to focus on ruling until she'd sorted through what she'd seen yesterday.

Settling into her favourite armchair by the hearth Sansa readied her ink and paper on the small table before her. Somewhere in all the pain of the Wolfswood there was a piece of the puzzle – something that would get justice for Tyrion and end the threat hanging over her family.

Sansa was nothing if not organised. First she wrote down the sequence of events as they'd unfolded, until she had a timeline of the Wolfswood before her that started with Tyrion's abduction and ended when Robin and Gawan left him for Grey Worm. Then she compiled a list of every name she'd heard mentioned and any details about the guards she recalled. It was only now Sansa cursed herself for not paying more attention to the guards; but Tyrion had looked so lost and alone – how could she not focus on him?

Untangling the past and analysing it objectively was more difficult than Sansa had anticipated. No matter how hard she tried her thoughts always turned back to Tyrion. He'd truly believed no-one cared for him when he was in the Wolfswood; that they wouldn't want him back.

Until her dying day she would remember holding Tyrion when he was first brought home and woke in her arms as they tended his injuries. His heartbroken pleading for Jamie to take him home would haunt her forever. That Tyrion was badly hurt and clearly not in his right mind didn't matter – in all his pain he'd wanted his brother and not her. To Sansa that had been the moment she realised how badly she'd failed as a wife. Even when he woke properly a few days later he hadn't acted as a man relieved to be safe at home with his family; but as a prisoner in enemy territory. Seeing the Wolfswood for herself had reignited a deep shame for her treatment of Tyrion.

_'It's the past'_ she told herself, pushing the dark thoughts down. Those mistakes would never be repeated and her husband would be left in no doubt of her love or his place in their family. Seeing the memory of him as a child had at least shown Sansa why Tyrion would reach out for his brother as his comfort. Even from the little she'd seen it was easy to imagine Jamie had once been his only comfort. That wasn't true anymore though. Jamie was dead - but she was here. Somehow she'd make sure Tyrion knew he could confide in her.

The Queen returned her focus to the notes before her, searching through the facts for anything that would help bring Robin and Gawan to justice. Whichever way she looked at it Sansa couldn't see anything they didn't already know.

More than once her thoughts drifted to her husband holding court, and she fought the urge to check on him. While she had no doubt he was capable, part of her worried if he needed her. It had only been seven weeks since he was so badly hurt; seeing the Wolfswood herself had burnt the horrors fresh in her mind. Maybe he should take a break. The rational part of Sansa batted the thoughts away but they continued niggling at her mind as she worked.

It was around mid-morning when a knock sounded on the door to her chambers. Sansa rose from her chair, opening the door to find lady Tallhart waiting for her.

"Your Grace" she greeted, inclining her head

"My lady, please join me"

Sansa returned to her armchair with lady Tallhart perching on the chaise beside her.

"I see you've been getting your thoughts in order" noted the older woman, her eyes scanning over the papers spread across the table

"With no results I fear" said Sansa, leaning back in her chair "How much did Arya tell you?"

"Your sister spared few words but I think I understand. King Bran has shown you the Wolfswood, using the powers of the three-eyed raven. From what I understand his powers are similar to greensight?"

"Sort of" said Sansa "I won't pretend to understand it, but somehow I saw the Wolfswood. I watched Robin Flint and Gawan Glover torture my husband - they enjoyed it"

Lady Tallhart nodded "Very well. What are you planning to do?"

A half smile curved over Sansa's face "You make it sound like I already have a plan"

"Of course you do my Queen. You would not have asked me to join you for a sewing circle"

Sansa's smile widened. Seeing the Wolfswood hadn't given her any insight into finding Robin and Gawan, but it had burned away whatever restraint she had left. This had gone on for far too long and she would smoke them out of hiding one way or another.

If Sansa was going to act she wanted as much support as possible behind her. Arya had been sent this morning to tell both lady Tallhart and lord Cerwyn what had transpired yesterday while Tyrion readied himself for court. The young lord Cerwyn had gone with her husband to support him, and Sansa had sent for lady Tallhart to join her. A break from her Queenly duties was well needed to sort through the horror she'd witnessed, but she had no intention of crying in her room all day either.

"I have several ideas" admitted Sansa "but it's your opinion I need. I will not allow those monsters to roam free any longer. We've been on the back foot since the beginning - it's time to strike"

* * *

It was approaching midday when the butcher came before Tyrion. The man was tall and stocky with jet back hair cut short. His beady eyes were narrowed in anger as he tossed a boy no more than ten years old before Tyrion.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked

"I've caught this lad stealing from my stall twice. The first time I let him go with a warning, but I aint putting up with it no more. You let one away with it the rest of them come too" snapped the butcher

Tyrion's stomach twisted uneasily as he eyed the boy. He had a mess of light brown hair and was watching the lord of Winterfell with tears in his eyes, his shoulders shaking. The boy's clothes were worn and tatty but he had a strong build – he didn't appear undernourished as many of the other children in the villages did.

"What's your name boy?" he asked

The child lifted his head slightly, whispering "Seth, m'lord"

"Did you steal from this man?"

Seth bit his lip, his head nodding forwards "Aye, m'lord"

Nausea rolled through Tyrion at the boy's admission – he knew what the punishment was for thievery.

The butcher leered down at the frightened boy "Be harder to steal with a few less fingers or maybe a hand"

Tyrion had seen thieves being punished at Casterly Rock and the punishment was generally the same throughout Westeros. Taking the black had been the alternative but that wasn't an option anymore. Often most cases of theft weren't brought to a lord's attention however. The parties would either resolve it between themselves or if it was children the local guards would scare them off from repeating the crime. If it was brought to court by the victim or guards then punishment was expected to be carried out, regardless of whether the perpetrator was an adult or child.

The butcher knew this; as did the boy.

Seth had admitted to his crime before a full court and the butcher had clearly brought him here to be fittingly punished. The boy was going to be mutilated on his orders. Tyrion's mind was grasping for any way out of the unpleasant sentence when Lyon stirred to life beside him. The direwolf always joined him for court and sat obediently at his side. Yet now Lyon prowled down the steps eyeing the boy with interest.

Seth wrapped his arms around himself, shaking on the spot as Lyon stared up at him.

"He won't hurt you" called Tyrion, his brow furrowing at his friends strange behaviour

"I ask for justice to be carried m'lord" prompted the butcher, his voice echoing around the room "this boy's admitted to being a thief"

Something wasn't right. The butcher was eager to see the sentence carried out, but Lyon's behaviour was causing Tyrion to pause. As he watched, the golden wolf turned away from Seth, fixing his gaze on the butcher with a growl.

The room stilled at the action and for the briefest moment the butcher's face faltered, giving Tyrion all the reason he needed.

"Seth, why did you steal from this man?" he asked

"He admitted his guilt!" protested the butcher. As soon as the words left his mouth Lyon edged closer as if stalking his prey

"I wasn't asking you"

The boy was trembling like a leaf, his eyes darting between Tyrion and the butcher with fear.

"Are you afraid of him?" asked Tyrion, softening his voice "You needn't fear him here. Tell me the truth boy"

Seth cast one last look at the irate butcher before turning his pleading gaze to Tyrion "My father was a pig farmer m'lord. He used to sell our pigs to the butcher...and he'd get paid in coin and meat"

"Go on" he encouraged, as the butcher's face paled

"My father died last week, and my mother had to sell the last two pigs we had to the butcher 'cept he didn't pay us for them"

Tyrion's hands curled around the arms of his chair as he moved his gaze to the butcher "That's a different story isn't it?"

"Changes nothing! He stole from me"

"What exactly did you take Seth?" asked Tyrion

"I did steal" said the boy, tears running down his face "I took the coins and pig meat we was owed. Father always said stealing was wrong...but the butcher wouldn't pay us. Father's gone; I gotta look after Mother and sisters now"

The butcher jabbed a finger towards Seth "I don't deal with children. If his mother wasn't happy with our deal she should have seen me herself"

"She did and you hit her!" shouted Seth, turning to face the butcher "you said you weren't gonna pay us!"

Tyrion pressed his mouth into a grim line "I've heard quite enough – there is a thief to deal with after all"

Silence fell on the hall as they awaited the sentence. Seth was crying as the butcher's mouth twitched into a smirk.

"Guards, seize the butcher"

"What?" cried the man, all traces of arrogance falling from his face as Brice and another guard took hold of him.

"Maester, remind me of the punishment for theft" said Tyrion

"The price of theft can be fingers or a hand my lord" said Wolkan. Both he and lord Cerwyn were eyeing the butcher with disgust as the man grappled with the guards.

"I'm not a thief" bellowed the butcher as the men forced him to his knees.

The rest of the hall held their breath at the unfolding scene, and Tyrion was acutely aware of all the eyes resting on him.

"You brought this boy here claiming he was a thief when he was taking what was rightfully owed to his family"

"Mercy m'lord..." pleaded the butcher, a desperate fear taking over his face as the guards held him still

Tyrion remained impassive, his voice carrying around the hall "Is the boy telling the truth?"

"Yes" said the butcher, rapidly nodding his head "I'll pay him what he's owed I swear it"

If the man thought a last minute confession would save him, he was badly mistaken.

"You'll pay more than that"

Tyrion rose from his seat, drawing his sword as another guard brought a crate in front of the butcher.

"No, m'lord! Please...I can't be a cripple..." the man begged, his face twisted in fear

"You'd have let the boy be crippled though" said Tyrion, his tone laced with disgust "You'd have let the child be punished for your crime – lying to your lord is a serious offence"

"Quit whining you lying bastard" muttered Brice, pulling the man's left hand out and pinning it to the crate as Tyrion approached

Sweat trickled down Tyrion's neck as he stood before the man. The short sword seemed to carry the weight of the world as he lifted it over the now crying butcher's trapped hand.

Tyrion drew in a deep breath as he brought the sword down in the silent hall and the butcher howled in pain.

Blood was rapidly spreading across the crate as the man fell backwards from the guards, leaving behind three severed fingers.

The man was crying as he examined the mutilated hand, the guards standing either side of him. Tyrion took a moment to observe the blood dripping from his sword before wiping it on the crate and returning it to his place on his hip. He hoped no-one noticed his hands trembling as he resumed his seat on the platform.

Lyon gave a cheerful bark, nudging against Seth who stood frozen in the centre of the room.

"You'd best pet him Seth – he's impossible if he doesn't get his reward" said Tyrion as the guards hauled the shaking butcher to his feet

Seth tentatively brushed his hand through the wolf's fur, his eyes darting between Tyrion and the butcher.

Tyrion turned his attention to the butcher. The man's shoulders were heaving with repressed sobs as he stared at his ruined hand; the blood pouring from the stumps and onto the floor.

"I took three of your fingers" started Tyrion, his voice hardening "One for not paying this boy's family and striking his mother, one for accusing him of being a thief and one for lying to me"

"My hand..." he moaned

Tyrion glanced sideways at Wolkan, signalling for the Maester to attend the man.

"You should consider yourself fortunate I didn't take the whole hand. If I hear you've caused any bother to this boy or his family, or you dare accuse someone of a crime knowing full well you are the one at fault I will take far more from you. Understood?"

"Aye, m'lord" sniffed the butcher

"The Maester will see your injury is properly cared for and then you can go" said Tyrion, waving his hand dismissively

As Wolkan and a guard led the man out of the great hall Tyrion returned his attention to Seth. The boy's hand was absently stroking Lyon but his eyes were locked on the severed fingers sitting on the crate.

Tyrion softened his tone as he addressed the boy "I'm sorry you had to see that. Don't worry – he won't bother you again"

Seth nodded distractedly, biting his lip "Is it my turn m'lord?"

"For what?"

"I'm a thief" he said, glancing tearfully at his hand wound in Lyon's fur

"In this case I believe the butcher was the real thief" said Tyrion "Why didn't you tell me what happened? You admitted to stealing and if not for Lyon you would have been punished for it"

"I did steal – he was right. Father always said it was wrong to steal"

"You only took what was owed you, correct?"

The boy rapidly nodded his head "Yes, m'lord"

Northern honour was a strange thing. In the South Tyrion had no doubt the boy would have been begging his innocence and pleading his case. Yet Seth had been taught stealing was wrong no matter the circumstances and had readily admitted his crime.

Tyrion smiled at him "I'm satisfied justice has been served. You will not be punished Seth"

The boy's eyes flashed with relief, and he hastily bowed his head "Thank you, m'lord. I'll never steal again – I swear it"

"Good to hear. Now tell me of your family. Your mother has sold the last two pigs your family owned, if I understand?"

"Aye, m'lord. After Father died Mother said we couldn't run the farm no more. She sold the last two pigs to the butcher and the farm to another family"

Tyrion's stomach twisted. Years of war and the long night had wiped out many of the working men in the local villages, leaving many families in desperate need of aid. Seth's family had lasted longer than most but now their provider was gone and they were soon to join the families begging for scraps. The problem was likely widespread across the North, and a long term solution was needed. It was something to bring to Sansa's attention for certain, but for now Tyrion focused on helping the boy before him.

"How will your family manage without the pig farm?"

The boy shifted uneasily "Mother's got coin for now"

Seth didn't need to say it, the truth was written all over his face. When the coin ran out they would join the masses in the villages struggling to survive.

"Lord Tyrion!"

The shout drew Tyrion from his musings to the group of merchants waiting at one side of the hall. When the court session ended and Wolkan returned, an inventory of the stock they'd lost at White Harbour would be done. It was an older man who shouted and Tyrion recognised him as the local smith. The man was lean with greying hair, but he walked with confidence as he stepped forwards from the other merchants.

"Pardon m'lord, but if the lad's willing to work I'll take him on"

Tyrion's eyebrows rose "You will?"

"Aye. He looks strong enough to swing a hammer and seems an honest lad. I'll take him as an apprentice if he wants"

To apprentice for a smith was nothing to be sneered at. Weapons were always in demand and the life of a smith generally promised steady, respectable work. The boy's eyes widened at the offer, glancing between Tyrion and the merchant.

"That is a most generous offer" said Tyrion, studying the man

"I lost an apprentice the other week – moved to Torrhen's Square. I didn't bother replacing him cause my materials weren't coming in from White Harbour, but if that's gonna be fixed I could use another pair of hands" said the merchant with a shrug

"What do you think Seth? Do you wish to apprentice as a smith?" asked Tyrion. He disliked the idea of children working, but he'd learned from Nessa that Northern children were raised with that mind-set. If anything it made Tyrion somewhat embarrassed of his privileged upbringing – however devoid of love it was. Given Seth's young age he was keen to let the boy choose himself.

"Yes, m'lord! Thank you" he said, excitement replacing the fear his eyes had held moments before

"Very well" agreed Tyrion, turning to the merchant "I trust you will treat the boy fairly?"

"Aye, m'lord. Never had no complaints from my apprentices"

"That is settled then" decided Tyrion. The merchant bowed and the boy quickly followed his lead before moving off to join the merchant at the side of the room. Lyon's ears drooped as his new friend left him before wandering back to Tyrion's side.

"You did good work Lyon" muttered Tyrion, scratching the direwolf's ear

If not for his friend's intervention the truth might not have been discovered until the sentence had been carried out. As much as he disliked using mutilation as punishment, letting the boy escape justice after pleading guilty would have reflected poorly on his rule as lord and by extension the Queen's justice. Tyrion would have taken a finger from the boy and hated himself for it. As he watched a servant hurriedly cleaning away the severed fingers and blood of the butcher, Tyrion felt no such regret for the man's punishment.

* * *

"You would support this course of action?" asked Sansa

"Absolutely" agreed lady Tallhart, sipping at her drink "Are you having doubts?"

The Queen pursed her lips considering the question. After reviewing everything they knew and the few courses of action left to them, there really wasn't much choice. Seeing the Wolfswood had ignited a fury in Sansa she hadn't felt since Joffrey and Ramsay. Cruelty for the sake of cruelty was something Sansa had become intimately familiar with since leaving Winterfell all those years ago - it was something she would tolerate no longer.

"No" she said eventually "It's past time this was done. I'll talk to Tyrion and inform the council tomorrow. If we're all in agreement, we will act"

The older woman nodded "It was wise to wait before using this course of action. Capturing Robin and Gawan quickly would have been the ideal solution but the North is full of places to hide and not enough people to search it"

"Taking away their hiding holes should help, but to their supporters it will be seen as a declaration of war" said Sansa, lacing her fingers together "I don't want war in the North"

"There's little appetite for it your Grace" said lady Tallhart, smiling at her "You are an excellent Queen. Whatever claim Robin Flint thinks he has to rule the North is utter nonsense"

"I've made mistakes. Who's to say the Northerners wouldn't prefer him?"

"You fought for the North's independence; you are the Queen we chose. The North is unlike the South – we will not accept the rule of anyone. You get only what you earn in the North and you earned that crown"

A lump formed in Sansa's throat "You are too kind my lady"

"It's the truth" said lady Tallhart, corners of her mouth turning upwards "All monarchs and lords make mistakes, but you've made many excellent choices too. A close relationship with the six Kingdoms is essential no matter how many stubborn Northerners think we could survive without the south, and your trade deal will ensure the North's recovery"

Sansa mulled over the words; there was truth in them she realised. At one of her early council meetings she recalled Robin mentioning how the North should be able to survive without any contact with the six Kingdoms. The older lords had laughed it off as a joke, and Sansa had put it down to lack of experience, but now she wondered if he did truly believe that.

Lady Tallhart continued "May I speak freely, your Grace?"

"Please do"

Where the signs of age could be seen in the lady's greying hair and the lines of her face, her dark eyes maintained a youthful sharpness "One of the best decisions you made was your husband"

"The one decision I'll never regret" she said "I fear it offended many of the Northern lords though"

Lady Tallhart scrunched her nose in distaste "Marriage for the sake of politics rarely works out well, your parents were perhaps an exception"

"I wouldn't have survived another political marriage. After Ramsay...it had to be someone I trusted"

"An excellent choice. Too many lords believe a marriage is merely two people sitting beside each other at dinner, all for the sake of joining their houses. When King Robert came North to ask your father to be hand, the royal party were hosted at Torrhen's square for a night. It was a huge honour of course, a feast was held – and King Robert drank and whored the night away with Cersei watching on. Their marriage was political and it ended in war"

"I once admired Cersei" admitted Sansa "before I saw who she really was. The only thing I pitied her for was her marriage to King Robert. He was my father's friend but he wasn't a good man"

The lady nodded "I thought much the same when I met the heroic King Robert - who led the rebellion and killed Rhaegar. Robert was a soldier and not a King"

"My father was the same; I can see that now. I loved my father, but he couldn't play the game in Kings Landing. It was cruel and dishonest – everything he hated"

"Lord Stark was a great lord of Winterfell, but ruling was never meant for him – Brandon was raised to be lord. Much like lord Glover. His brother ruled Deepwood Motte until the red wedding. Robett Glover was never meant to be lord, nor Gawan the heir" said lady Tallhart, leaning forwards "Many of the Northern lords make a lot of noise and pretend they know what they're talking about – most of them don't"

Sansa smiled, a lightness filling her chest "Thank you. It's easy to forget that when they're all watching me. I was never born for this either"

"Perhaps not, but your time away from the North, however unpleasant, gave you experience. I declared you as my Queen because I believe in you, and that the best interests of the North guide your decisions"

"You don't regret it?"

"Of course not. I knew I'd made the right choice when you chose to marry Tyrion Lannister. Marrying a Northern lord might have strengthened that houses relationship to house Stark, but it would have benefitted them and no-one else. You did not bow to the pressure of marrying one of the green boys your council wanted you to choose either. I have great fondness for young lord Cerwyn but he would not have been able to help you rule"

"The thought of being married to Robin or Gawan now, knowing all they've done..." said Sansa, her heart twisting

"You made the most sensible decision you could. I have great love for the way we do things in the North, but to flourish as an independent Kingdom we need to be clever. Traditional Northern thinking needs to adapt to our new reality. You understand this in a way few others do and your bringing Tyrion here is proof of that – the North needs a man like him in this new world. Lord Tyrion is far more experienced than most lords in the North, he has one of the sharpest minds I've ever met and he is someone you trust"

Sansa smiled thinking of her husband "He is all those things. He's rather handsome too"

Lady Tallhart laughed "That always helps"

"Thank you, my lady" said Sansa, relaxing into her armchair "It's not very dutiful, but it's nice to have a day off"

"You work hard enough" said the older woman "Lord Tyrion is more than capable of running things and giving you a break"

Sansa smiled, allowing some of her stress to slip away though part of her still wished to check on her husband. Tomorrow a meeting would be called and action against Robin and Gawan would begin in earnest. While the purpose of seeing the Wolfswood still eluded Sansa, talking to lady Tallhart had at least put things in perspective.

The situation wasn't as desperate as her mind often feared. The only way to truly slay her fears was to bring justice to her enemies. One way or another justice would be served.

* * *

Tyrion let his head fall back against the chair as the last petitioner left the great hall. Gods, that had been a long court session. With Bran's visit and the signing of the trade deal there was a back log of people to see both him and Sansa. Combining them all into one session had taken the entire morning and early afternoon.

"That was a long session" he said, rubbing his head

"It was" agreed Maester Wolkan "I'm sure the rest of the petitioners won't mind waiting until after lunch"

His eyes darted to the old Maester sat beside Cley, both watching him with amusement.

"Don't even joke about that!" he groaned "If anyone else wishes to petition today they can make their pleas to Lyon"

The direwolf flopped to the floor, letting out a whine.

Nessa giggled "Even Lyon doesn't want to"

Tyrion turned his attention his squire. The poor girl had been run off her feet all morning, organising the petitioners and generally helping him run the court – all without a word of complaint.

"I owe you a great debt Nessa. You've been a fantastic help to me"

"I like helping you" she said, beaming at him

"That's good to know – I'd be totally lost without you" he said, dropping his voice to a whisper "You may even be better than Ser Podrick Payne"

The girl's eyes lit up at the compliment. Tyrion had introduced Nessa to Pod, but unusually for her the girl was wary of him. It had puzzled him and Pod in equal measure until Arya had shed light on the matter.

"She's probably jealous. You've told her about Pod before haven't you?" Arya had said

"Yes, I have mentioned him"

"She knows he was your squire"

"Of course"

Arya had rolled her eyes "With Pod back at Winterfell she probably thinks he's going to want his old job back"

Tyrion had snorted "He's a Knight and the King's sworn shield. Squiring for a moody dwarf would be quite the come down"

"We know it's not going to happen, but Nessa's a child and she loves you"

Tyrion hadn't been entirely convinced by Arya's theory, but seeing the pride in the girl's face now he suspected she may be right and it warmed his heart.

"I do believe you've earned a rest my dear" he said "Take the afternoon off"

She pouted slightly "There's nothing else to do?"

Tyrion shook his head "I'm quite done with work today. I shall need you tonight though, if you don't mind?"

"Don't worry, I've got everything ready" she said, brightening again "It looks so pretty"

"You think Queen Sansa will like it?"

Nessa nodded enthusiastically "Of course"

"Let's hope so" he said "I will see you tonight then"

"Ok, bye Tyrion! Bye Lyon!"

The girl threw her arms around him for a quick hug, petted Lyon and waved at Wolkan and Cley before skipping out the door. Where she got the energy, Tyrion didn't know.

Turning his attention back to Wolkan and Cley, Tyrion rose from his chair "I owe you both my thanks as well. Covering Sansa's duties would have been far more difficult without you"

The young lord Cerwyn shook his head "You needed no help my lord. Though I did learn a great deal from watching you"

"Lord Cerwyn is correct" agreed the Maester "You had no need of us"

Heat crept up Tyrion's neck at their praise, and he fiddled with the pommel of his sword, dropping his gaze. Many of the issues had been relatively simple to resolve, though Sansa would need to be briefed on the main points that had come up.

"Maester did you take the list from the merchants?"

The old man frowned "Yes, my lord. I'll need to examine it in more detail but from what I've seen White Harbour have been gradually slowing down their deliveries to the local merchants. One woman told me she's gone from five deliveries a week to only receiving one – most troubling"

"There have been a few late deliveries to my own merchants" said Cley, rubbing his chin "I didn't think much of it, but now I wonder if it was deliberate"

"Sansa will need to be told" said Tyrion, mouth turning downwards "It can wait until tomorrow though. She's in need of a break"

Both men nodded their understanding.

"Understood, my lord. I will compile the notes from today's session in preparation for a council meeting tomorrow" said Wolkan, bowing his head

Tyrion nodded "Thank you Maester"

The old man shuffled off, his chain clinking in the distance as Tyrion and Cley headed out of the great hall and into the corridor. Lyon trotted after them, his gaze searching for any servants who may be amenable to giving him attention.

"How are things at Castle Cerwyn?" asked Tyrion as they walked

The young lord looked trimmer than the last time he'd visited Winterfell, though still somewhat portly. His confidence also appeared to have improved. While he was still quiet through most council meetings he did offer his own opinion on matters more readily. The murder of his family by Ramsay Bolton had forced him into the role of lord far earlier than he was prepared for, but it seemed to Tyrion he was growing into it.

"I still don't know what the hell I'm doing half the time" said Cley

"The idea of lordship often seems easier than the reality" agreed Tyrion "I've heard you're a good lord though"

The young man shook his head "I'm fortunate to have people I trust to advise me. I've learnt much from you, and lady Tallhart has been a blessing; I often write to her seeking advice. I always knew I'd be lord one day, but I thought I'd be older - that some of my family would still be alive to guide me"

"What happened to your family was a great crime" said Tyrion, clenching his hands into fists at the thought of Ramsay Bolton "I was never meant to be lord of anything - especially not in the North"

Cley laughed "The more time I spend with you the harder it is to remember you weren't born up here"

Tyrion grinned, running a hand through his hair "You get many golden haired dwarfs up here?"

"You have the Northern temperament though. All the petitioners respected you in court - you had total authority"

Tyrion shook his head as they made their way upstairs "I only have the authority the Queen gives me. However much the people may dislike me, offending the Queen's husband would be unwise"

"You'd be surprised how many people do like you" said Cley, raising an eyebrow "Trust me, if the Northerner's didn't respect you they'd let you know. I've been the heir to castle Cerwyn from the day I was born - it didn't stop my petitioners sniggering about my weakness as a lord the first few months"

Tyrion's brow furrowed "You're a good man - they should be grateful to have you as lord"

"That's kind of you, but it needs to be earned. My father always told me that, but I didn't understand until I was lord" said Cley with a shrug "I was raised a Northerner and I couldn't do what you did today"

His stomach twisted uneasily "You mean the butcher?"

Cley nodded "I've had a couple of thieves punished on my lands, but one of my guards carried the sentence. Doing it yourself…the people will respect that"

"When I came to Winterfell with King Robert, I heard lord Stark talking about a Nights Watch deserter he executed. He said 'the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword' and I always remembered that" said Tyrion "I saw in Kings Landing how easy it was for nobles and rulers to pass a terrible punishment without dirtying their own hands"

The young lord clasped his shoulder "My father would have liked you. He always said Southern lords were so removed from the small folk they'd pass punishments without thinking about the consequences. Not you though - everyone could see the butcher deserved punishment and you delivered it yourself"

"Thank you" said Tyrion, considering his words "I dislike that kind of punishment, but trying to blame the boy was unforgiveable"

Cley smiled "He more than deserved it. Lyon knew something was wrong"

"Yes, he does have a peculiar skill" said Tyrion, glancing around for his wolf "Where's he gone?"

"Over there" said Cley, pointing back down the corridor.

Lyon had apparently found servants suitable for his needs, as two young hand maids were fussing over the wolf - stroking his back and scratching behind his ears. The wolf was practically beaming at the attention, his tail swishing happily.

Lord Cerwyn laughed "Does he do this regularly?"

"Oh yes. Half the castle is wrapped around his paw" said Tyrion "I think he does it to annoy Sansa. He eagerly accepts attention from everyone but the Queen"

* * *

When a knock sounded on Sansa's door in the early afternoon, she was stunned to find an old woman leaning heavily on a stick waiting for her.

"Are you the Queen in the North?" the woman croaked "I come offering to tell your future"

"How did you...?" she stammered. There were guards at the stairs, how had this woman got up here?

The old woman ignored Sansa's rising panic "I see you Queen in the North. A Queen of ice and fire. At your side I see a husband – golden and short. I see a direwolf too. You will negotiate with the wolf...but be unsuccessful..."

Realisation hit Sansa like a slap to the face, burning her panic away in an instant "Arya!"

The old woman cackled, shuffling into the room as Sansa slammed the door shut behind her.

"That wasn't funny" said Sansa, crossing her arms

A wrinkled face framed with stringy grey hair stared at her with strangers eyes, before straightening up. The woman passed her hand over the face and the strangers face fell away to reveal Arya – her familiar grey eyes sparking with amusement.

"I believe it was very funny"

Sansa's stomach rolled at her sisters skills. As useful as her skills were, it was disturbing. She knew Arya had different faces and had trained with the faceless men but beyond that Sansa wasn't sure she could stomach any of the details. Her sister was still dressed in her old lady's garb, but it was clearly Arya now. The way she transformed in an instant was as impressive as it was unsettling.

"What would you have done if lady Tallhart was still here?" grumbled Sansa, dropping back into her armchair as Arya took up position opposite her

"I would have told her future too"

Sansa rolled her eyes "Why exactly are you going around like that? If you're bored I can find things for you to do"

"It's been a while since I wore a face" said Arya "practice is needed to keep my skills sharp"

"So if I hear tales of a strange old woman telling fortunes in the village I should just assume it was you testing your skills?"

"I didn't go to the village" said Arya "I went to Tyrion's court session"

"Does he know?" asked Sansa

Arya snorted "Of course not. He asked me to go and I told him I wouldn't"

Worry fluttered through Sansa's chest "Why did he ask you to go?"

"He seemed to think the petitioners would rebel against him for covering your duties. I think he wanted support"

"Gods Arya, if he asked for help why would you refuse him?" snapped Sansa. She'd spent weeks convincing Tyrion they would always support him.

"He didn't need any help. If I thought he needed me of course I'd of been there – but he didn't. Maester Wolkan and Cley were with him and they did next to nothing" said Arya, staring reproachfully at her sister "Tyrion doesn't need either of us to hold his hand. He's never going to get his confidence back if we're hovering over him all the time"

There was truth in Arya's words, she supposed. The Wolfswood had left Tyrion utterly helpless and Sansa had latched onto caring for him. His injuries had healed though and he was no longer dependant on Sansa – a fact she was struggling to accept.

"Did court go well?" she asked, twisting her hands in her lap

"Ask him yourself" said Arya. Sansa's face fell and Arya rolled her eyes before relenting "Of course it went well. You'd have been drooling over him looking all lordly"

"That's good" said Sansa, breathing out

Sansa allowed her mind to settle, imagining how impressive Tyrion surely was in court. The conversation with lady Tallhart had been a much needed release for Sansa. While she didn't care if the Northern lords and ladies approved of her choice of husband, it warmed her heart to know Tyrion had won such acceptance.

"He's not going to leave you Sansa. You know that right?"

Arya's voice cut through her wandering thoughts, drawing her back to the watchful grey eyes of her younger sister.

"I know that. This is his home; we're his family"

"If you know that why were you so relieved to see him this morning?"

The Queen's face flushed "I can't be excited to see my husband?"

"You thought he'd left, didn't you?"

"No. Lyon wouldn't stay unless he knew Tyrion was coming back"

"Sansa…"

"I had a nightmare" she mumbled "When I woke up and he wasn't there…I thought he'd gone to accept Bran's offer"

Arya shook her head "What you saw yesterday must have been terrible - but it was the past. A lot has changed since then Sansa. It's taken time but he's happy here. Don't you think so?"

"He is" she admitted "I just…I don't mean to smother him, I just worry. All of this was forced on him"

"He forgave you; you should forgive yourself"

"I know" she groaned, slumping in her chair "Things are so much better between us - I don't want anything to disrupt that"

Arya nodded, the corner of her mouth giving the slightest twitch; as if she knew something Sansa didn't.

"Tyrion doesn't want to leave - you need to trust him"

"I trust him more than anyone"

"Yet as soon as he's out of sight you're afraid he's left"

Sansa swallowed thickly. Arya was right - she couldn't spend her life terrified of her husband leaving her. Nothing Tyrion had said or done had given her any indication he was going to leave. On the contrary, they'd remade their marriage vows yesterday - at Tyrion's idea. Each time they kissed it seemed to grow more passionate, and his eyes held nothing but tenderness for her.

_'Everyone you love leaves in the end'_ whispered Cersei _'better to not love'_

It was her fears talking; controlling her actions. Sansa had sworn to not listen to the dangerous voices in her mind anymore. The whispers of her dead mentors had encouraged her to shield herself behind a wall of ice; the catalyst for so many terrible mistakes - they couldn't control her anymore.

Arya was right, she was being irrational.

She loved Tyrion with all her heart - and by some miracle he loved her too.

Sansa bit her lip, dropping her face from her sister's gaze. Part of her knew she was being overly protective of Tyrion, but she feared voicing the dark thought lurking in her mind would somehow give it life.

"What's bothering you Sansa?" asked Arya, her voice far gentler than usual "I'm your sister, you can tell me"

"It's just..." she said, unsure how to phrase it

Arya waited silently for Sansa to get her thoughts in order.

"For weeks Tyrion's needed me. Now that he doesn't, I'm not sure how to be around him" she said the words tumbling out "Taking care of him – it was something I was good at. He doesn't need that now, but I don't know how..."

"You don't know how to be his wife" finished Arya, tilting her head to one side "Sansa you're overthinking this"

"How? Things are so good between us now; I don't want to lose that"

"You think acting more as his wife than his carer will mess that up" said Arya "You love him don't you?"

"Of course I do"

"Well there you go. There's no rule book on being a wife, even though mother and our Septa made it sound like there was" said Arya "Just love him. Do what works for you both. Honestly Sansa no-one gives a shit if you play the perfect wife like you were taught to. Both of you have suffered enough – just enjoy each other"

Sansa pouted "You make it sound easy"

"It is easy. I don't really understand why you're worried about this now – as far as I can see you're both quite happy with each other. The longing glances at each other is quite nauseating"

Silence fell between them and Sansa turned her sister's words through her mind. Tyrion regaining his independence felt like a threat to their relationship, but hearing it out loud made it seem ridiculous. It was true he might not need her help to do everyday tasks but that hadn't stopped them curling up in bed with a book between them or playing cyvasse late into the evening. They often kissed until they were breathless and sought each other's comfort in the night when nightmares plagued them.

The change in her relationship with Tyrion seemed terrifying, but looking back on it their relationship was constantly changing – trust building between them every day. Comparing what they'd built since the Wolfswood to what their marriage was before the difference was undeniable.

A smile spread across Sansa's face "You're right. I don't know why I'm so worried"

"You don't like change" threw out Arya, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world "Understandable after everything that happened since leaving Winterfell - nothing changed for the better. You found a comfort zone with Tyrion and you're afraid of leaving it"

Sansa's mouth hung open "I never thought you could be so insightful"

Her little sister groaned "This is what happens when there's no-one to kill. Rather than using my skills productively I'm trapped in Winterfell watching you and Tyrion dance around each other"

"Don't worry there will be people to kill soon"

"I look forward to it"

Sansa allowed her sister's words to seep into her, pushing the broken, scared Tyrion who'd flinched from her touch from her mind. The haunting image was instead replaced by the hearty, commanding lord with soft green eyes who'd kissed her so tenderly before leaving that morning.

The past would never leave Sansa, but she didn't have to carry it with her constantly – or allow it to influence her decisions. It had taken seven weeks of hard work to build the foundations with Tyrion, and Sansa found herself excited for what they could build in the future. To do that she had to let go of the past, and give herself a second chance.

* * *

_The forest spread before Bran as he lumbered through the trees. Rabbits scurried out of sight as he lurched towards a stream, dropping his head to lap up the water. His fur covered face reflected back at him in the water's ripples while he drank. The bear moved off from the stream in search of food when something tugged at his subconscious._

The three-eyed raven returned to his own body, forever stuck in the wheelchair. He glanced around, wondering what had disturbed him when a knock sounded on the door again.

"Enter" he called

Much to Bran's surprise the door creaked opened to reveal Tyrion. The lord of Winterfell stood awkwardly in the doorway "Am I disturbing you?"

"Certainly not" said Bran, gesturing to a seat across from him

Tyrion hesitated only a moment before closing the door and joining him by the hearth - Lyon trotting in after him.

"Do you mind?" asked Tyrion, glancing at his wolf

"Of course not" said Bran "Hello Lyon"

The golden wolf considered him for a moment before lying down in front of the warm hearth. Lyon had grown a bit since Bran saw him save Tyrion in the Wolfswood, but he was still small for his age - unlikely to reach the size Summer had.

The King turned his attention to his visitor. He'd meant to speak to Tyrion, but hadn't expected the dwarf to come to him.

"How are you?" asked Tyrion

"I'm quite alright" said Bran, shifting in his wheelchair "I'm surprised you came to see me - I was beginning to think you were avoiding me"

"Certainly not" he said quickly "I know you and your council have been hard at work - I've no wish to bother you"

"You wouldn't bother me brother" said Bran "In truth I do very little. Ser Davos handles things"

Tyrion nodded, squirming in his seat. It was obvious enough he'd come for a reason - though he was apparently undecided on how to mention it.

"Ser Bronn won't kidnap you, there's no need to worry" said Bran "Davos and Brienne talked him out of it"

Tyrion stared at him as if trying to work out if it was a joke. He gave a half smile "I should hope not"

"You've no intention of leaving the North?"

"Not unless Sansa orders me away"

Bran smiled sadly "You could have been my hand rather than Ser Davos"

Tyrion shook his head "Certainly not something I deserved. Ser Davos is a good man - he will serve you far better than I ever could"

Bran's eyes wandered over Tyrion. He'd recovered well from the horrors of the Wolfswood. The scar across his face stood out brightly and there was still a limp to his walk but otherwise the signs of his suffering were fading.

"You weren't alone" said Bran

Tyrion looked blankly at him.

"In the Wolfswood" he clarified "I was with you. I'm sorry I couldn't help you Tyrion - the old Gods forbade any interference"

Bran studied his brother as his face morphed into shock and then confusion.

"There was a raven" said Tyrion; his brow furrowed "It was staring at me"

Bran nodded "I didn't come to laugh at you"

The lord of Winterfell flinched at the answer to the question he'd asked the raven all those weeks ago. Bran had long grown used to how unsettling people found his abilities. Unlike Sansa, Tyrion was generally more curious than unnerved however.

"Not a particularly pleasant thing to see" said Tyrion, a shadow passing over his face "though I appreciate your intention"

"You're my brother by marriage; I never wanted you to get hurt" said Bran "I do care for my family - despite what my sisters think"

"Sansa and Arya know that" he said quickly, shifting in his seat "What you showed Sansa yesterday was to help wasn't it?"

Bran smiled humourlessly "It was. The three-eyed raven can only do so much I'm afraid"

It was a painful truth to accept; that he had power which couldn't help his family. The three-eyed raven had only two roles to play in what was to come. Showing Sansa the past was the first, and that had been difficult enough. The next would change everything.

"I won't pretend to understand your powers Bran" said Tyrion, hesitating "I just wanted to ask..."

Bran watched as Tyrion's face tightened, struggling to find the words. Eventually he did, lifting his curious green eyes to meet Bran's gaze "Could I have done it?"

Bran shook his head "I tried to practice with Ser Davos but he has no Northern blood and it wouldn't work"

"Oh" said Tyrion deflating. As if the reminder he wasn't born a Northerner bothered him.

"It couldn't be Arya either" he added "She asked me the same yesterday. The old Gods didn't like what I was doing, but they allowed Sansa to see what she needed to"

Tyrion nodded "Thank you Bran. I just needed to know. If I could have done it and spared Sansa I would have"

Lyon stirred to life, padding over to Tyrion and placing his paws in his lap - as if sensing some inner turmoil in his master. Bran observed the two and their odd relationship. Lyon was bonded as closely to Tyrion as Summer had been to him.

"There's something I'd like to show you" said Bran. He'd played around with the idea since coming North, but he wasn't certain it would work.

"Alright" said Tyrion, glancing around the room "Do you need me to get it for you?"

"Not here" said Bran "Meet me in the Godswood tomorrow. I missed your name day and it's time you had your gift"

"The Godswood?"

Bran nodded, lacing his fingers in his lap "There's something you need to see"

* * *

Sansa swallowed down the fear clawing at her throat as the wheelhouse trundled along the road.

"Nearly there" said Tyrion, squeezing her hand

She tightened her grip on him, letting his touch soothe the anxieties bubbling in her chest at where they were going.

The Queen had spent the day in her room. First planning with lady Tallhart and then talking with her sister, before trying to relax with some needlework. The afternoon had worn on and she'd forced herself to take a nap even when Tyrion didn't return to their chambers. Despite her earlier resolve to not let her fears control her actions, she'd been near frantic when her chamber door opened in the early evening to reveal Arya and not Tyrion.

"Where is he?" she'd asked, unable to contain her panic

Arya had grinned at her "Waiting for you to get ready"

"For what?"

"I'm not at liberty to say. The lord of Winterfell has asked me to ready his wife though"

Sansa had been thoroughly confused as Arya ordered her into her best clothes and brought in hand maids to deal with her tangled hair.

When she was dressed in a navy gown and her red hair was brushed and hanging loosely around her face, Arya had held up a blindfold.

"What..?" she started

"Tyrion wants to surprise you. He said if you're uncomfortable then I'm not to push you though"

Arya hadn't said anything more, but her eyes had been full of challenge. Sansa was determined to not be led by the past, and Tyrion asked her for nothing. She could do this for him.

Sansa's nerves had been poorly disguised as Arya tied the blindfold around her and led her downstairs. For someone who liked to be in control, the loss of her sight was terrifying. All the way downstairs she reminded herself she was safe. Arya was with her. She was in Winterfell.

It was only when a familiar hand took hold of her own that some of the tension left her.

"You look stunning Sansa" said her husband, his deep voice washing over her as he kissed her hand, clasping it firmly in his own

"Do I get to see my handsome husband?"

"Can you hang on a little longer? I have a surprise"

"Of course" she'd said, tightening her grip on him "I'm in your hands my lord"

Having Tyrion at her side gave her a little more confidence, though her nerves intensified when he led her outside the castle and into a wheelhouse. Arya bid them a good night as the door closed and they bounced along the roads out of Winterfell.

"Are you alright?" he asked

"I'm fine"

"If you're uncomfortable with the blindfold I understand"

"I'm alright sweetheart, just…please don't let go of me"

"Never" he promised

Without the ability to see, Sansa found herself grasping for any other sense to latch onto. Lyon was with them; she'd felt him brush against her leg and heard his puppy bark. Tyrion had spoken briefly with the driver of the wheelhouse; easily recognised as Brice. She heard the voices of a few other guards including the muffled bickering of Lyle and Cayn.

Sansa had left Winterfell only once since becoming Queen and that had been to go riding with Gawan. Fortunately their journey wasn't far and if Sansa had to guess she'd say they were in the village when the wheelhouse finally stopped.

"We're here" said Tyrion, kissing her cheek as the door to the wheelhouse opened and a cold breeze greeted her

True to his word, Tyrion kept his grip on her as she stepped from the wheelhouse carefully guiding her to the ground.

"Nessa, is everything ready?" she heard him say

"It is" came the reply "Do you need anything else?"

"That's quite alright my dear. Thank you for your help. I've asked Cayn to see you home"

"Ok" she said, adding in a whisper "Good luck"

Standing in the street left her feeling oddly exposed despite the numerous guards around them. She should not have hid herself away in Winterfell for so long. The longer she stayed safe behind its walls the harder it was to leave.

A squeeze of her hand brought her back to the present as Tyrion gently tugged her onwards "Just a little further"

The only thing stronger than Sansa's nerves was her curiosity as Tyrion led her indoors and then up a winding stair case. He took care to make sure she wouldn't trip as they climbed until they were back on level ground. A door opened with a creak and a northern breeze batted gently at her face, indicating they were once again outside.

"May I?" he asked, tugging her hand downwards

Sansa bent down enough for Tyrion to untie the blindfold, opening her eyes to the most beautiful scene.

They were stood on a small rooftop terrace with a table and two chairs positioned near a railing that looked out across the village, with Winterfell looming in the distance. Lanterns hung around the frame of the terrace casting a warm glow against the dark night. A fire burned cheerfully to one side keeping the cold at bay. The table was set with a Stark grey cloth, a candle burning in the middle.

"Oh, Tyrion…" she said, frozen to the spot as she took in the scene before her

"I didn't think you'd mind missing dinner at Winterfell for one night" he said, drawing her eyes from the dream like set-up to the man who'd arranged it.

Tyrion was nervously fiddling with the blindfold as she took in his surprise. Sansa drank in the sight of her husband like a woman starved. He was dressed in his finest black tunic, golden lions standing out across the chest and his Valyrian steel sword at his hip. The heavy cloak she'd gifted him for his name day hung around his shoulders, and his golden hair was neatly brushed - though it had little effect on taming it.

"Do you like it?" he asked, green eyes searching her face for any sign of rejection "If you don't…we can go back…"

Sansa swept down pushing her mouth against his for the sweetest of moments.

"It's beautiful" she breathed, dampness creeping into her eyes

Tyrion's face lit up, shooting her a warm smile as he led her to the table.

* * *

Arya groaned inwardly as dinner lumbered on. It wasn't that she disliked the people she was eating with; it was her strained relationship with Bran that was adding tension to the table. Her brother had shown no remorse for what he put Sansa through yesterday, and very little concern for how she was dealing with it.

Even now the King sat at the table, studying them all as if he could see their whole lives in a single glance. That wasn't what bothered her. She'd long ago accepted Bran had strange powers that defied explanation. Her own skills were unnerving to many - the discomfort in Sansa's face when she took of her old woman face that afternoon had been both amusing and sobering. It was his indifference to their family that really bothered her.

Arya hadn't been happy to learn Bronn hadn't returned either. While she'd heard yesterday he'd stormed off, presumably to a brothel, the news a volatile sellsword was roaming the North hadn't improved her mood.

"Should you not be more concerned that your master of coin has disappeared in another kingdom?" she asked

Bran shrugged "He'll come back"

"He better had" she snapped

"I'm sure Ser Bronn is merely enjoying the beauty of the North" said lady Tallhart

"I fear its charms may well be lost on him m'lady" said Ser Davos, chugging steadily at his wine

Arya had readily agreed to Tyrion's plan and promised to entertain their guests so Sansa could have a night off. The little Lannister had put so much work into it; she hoped Sansa enjoyed it. Going around the village with him yesterday while he made all the arrangements had made it abundantly clear how much he loved Sansa. Every decision had been laboured over, and Arya's opinion had often been sought - all to treat his wife.

While Arya had no doubt at all her sister would love anything Tyrion did for her, Tyrion had been nervous she wouldn't. Particularly when he'd shown Arya the necklace he wanted to give her.

"Do you think she'll like it?" he'd asked, fiddling with his sleeves as she looked at Joanna Lannister's necklace

"She'll love it Tyrion"

"You don't think she'll be offended? It did belong to a Lannister…"

"You're a Lannister" she'd reminded him "Sansa loves you, and I think she'll be thrilled if you give her this. Honestly Tyrion, just because your father and sister were vicious bastards doesn't mean everything a Lannister touches is poison. For what it's worth, I think Sansa's quite proud you're a lion"

"If you're sure"

"Sansa doesn't sew lions on all your clothes for nothing Tyrion"

Hope had simmered in his green eyes "I may not be the knight Sansa dreamed of but she deserves to be treated as a Queen"

Seeing how much thought and effort he put in to make tonight special, Arya knew Tyrion was wrong. He was exactly the man Sansa had dreamed of marrying, even if he didn't necessarily fit her childhood image. She had no doubt her sister would be swept away by the romantic dinner and they'd both be sat staring longingly at each other as they often did.

They needed time to enjoy each other in private, and if that meant Arya had to suffer Bran's vacant staring then so be it. Though as she looked into her brother's dark eyes, she was certain she saw something else there for a moment. Sadness? Regret?

Arya couldn't quite place it, and it was gone as soon as it appeared - but whatever she saw sent a shiver of unease down her back.

* * *

Everything had gone as well as he could have hoped.

Sansa seemed utterly delighted when she saw the dinner he'd arranged for them, and he hadn't missed the smile that clung to her face as they ate. That was all he wanted – to make Sansa happy. Ever since Bran arrived he'd been thinking of a way to treat Sansa. For weeks her life had been worry over him, the stress of the royal visit and the politics of the North. She bore it all with the grace of a woman born to be Queen, but Tyrion didn't want her to forget herself in the midst of caring for everyone else.

His hand brushed against the pocket of his tunic, checking his gift was still there. Sansa was just finishing desert – lemon cakes he'd miraculously managed to acquire. Before his plan was fully formed he'd known he needed lemon cakes. Fortunately a local merchant had been able to locate some on his behalf and they'd arrived yesterday. While Tyrion didn't particularly care for the sweet treat, his wife loved them; her blue eyes had doubled in size when they were brought out.

"Did you like them?" he asked, as she dabbed her napkin at her mouth

"They were delicious" she said, gazing around the garden terrace "this is all so lovely Tyrion"

"I'm glad you like it"

Sansa smiled at him, her eyes full of warmth "What did I do to deserve all this?"

"You were Sansa Stark – that alone deserves this and so much more" he said, his mouth tugging upwards as she blushed "I may not be your knight in shining armour, but you were always a Queen"

"You're far better than any knight I ever imagined" said Sansa, leaning forwards "You remember I once thought I would marry Ser Loras?"

"Ah, yes – before my father wed you to the imp"

"You're not an imp" she said, reaching out to stroke the side of his face "I had a lucky escape with Ser Loras. We went for a walk once and he was the dullest man I ever met. He barely spared me a glance"

Tyrion snorted "You were lacking his favourite parts dear"

"I know that now" said Sansa, rolling her eyes "to look at he was the perfect Knight but there was nothing behind the pretty face"

"Looks without brains tends to be a standard for many knights"

"That's why I'm so lucky" she said, sighing contentedly "I have a man with both"

The denial was burning on his tongue, but Tyrion bit it down. He might not see himself that way, but if he was good enough for Sansa that had to count for something. She pulled her hand back from his face, her eyes moving to Lyon napping in the corner.

"Is there a reason Lyon had such a huge piece of meat waiting for him?" she asked. The little wolf had his own dinner set in a corner of the terrace – a cooked lump of stag as big as him had been waiting on a plate with a bowl of water.

"Oh, yes. I owed him a debt you see"

Sansa pursed her lips, considering his words "For keeping me in bed this morning?"

"Well yes" he said rubbing his neck "Lyon drove quite a hard bargain. He wanted to eat with us, and I promised him some cooked meat. Apparently he needed a day off from hunting"

Sansa tried and failed to keep a straight face "I can imagine you having that conversation with him"

"That's what he told me" said Tyrion, grinning at Sansa "The price for holding the Queen hostage was a day off from hunting and a meal tonight. Not that he wouldn't have joined us anyway, he just wouldn't have had a large piece of meat cooked for him"

"He earned it" said Sansa, a laugh falling from her lips "No matter how I pleaded he wouldn't move"

A plump, middle aged landlady came to clear the plates, bowing her head to Sansa and then Tyrion.

"Was everything acceptable my lord?" she asked, casting a nervous glance at the Queen from the corner of her eye

"It was wonderful" he said, smiling at her "Thank you very much"

The woman smiled "A pleasure my lord. Shall I fetch the wine?"

"If you would"

The woman returned moments later with a fresh flagon of wine and water for him.

"You're not drinking?" asked Sansa lightly as he poured her a glass

"My wine days are behind me" he said "I do believe I drank enough for ten dwarfs in my time. Does it bother you?"

"Of course not" she said quickly, sipping at her drink "I was just surprised when you came North and stopped drinking"

There was a gentle question behind her words that Tyrion found he didn't mind answering "I spent much of my time drinking; it numbed many things for me. After what happened with Daenerys I wondered if it numbed too much. If I hadn't been drinking so much might I have noticed something was amiss with her?"

"Sweetheart, what happened with her wasn't your fault" she said softly "You saw the good in her, and there was some there; but there was madness in her that couldn't be helped"

Tyrion nodded "We'll never know if my not drinking might have changed things. Though I have no wish to return to my old habits"

"As long as you're happy" said Sansa "As much as I enjoyed your drunken threats to Joffrey at our wedding, you were lucky to leave with your head attached"

Tyrion laughed "That's the downside of not drinking. I no longer have an excuse for outrageous behaviour. If I threaten anyone now they all know I'm not drunk!"

The Queen sipped the wine as they chatted and laughed together, exchanging old gossip from Kings Landing and tales of the people they knew.

"I don't think Margaery was a maiden" said Sansa "When we spoke of bedding, she knew far more than any maiden would. She said her mother taught her and I actually believed her"

"You were adorably innocent" said Tyrion, smiling fondly at her "Lady Margaery knew a great many things, not least how to manipulate men. Her grandmother taught her much of it"

"Undoubtedly. I admired both of them. They could play the game, but they weren't monsters either"

"Yes, their thorns were well hidden but no less prickly for it" he said

It was when Sansa stopped filling her wine glass and the candle had almost burned out Tyrion knew he could delay no longer. Sansa had accepted his surprise with enthusiasm; he only hoped she'd accept his gift too.

"Sansa, there's one more thing I have for you tonight" he said, reaching in his pocket

Her blue eyes were soft and filled with a tenderness he'd come to depend on as she studied him "You've done so much already, my love"

Tyrion shot her a nervous smile as he pulled out the plain black box, passing it to her as if it contained his very heart. Sansa accepted it graciously, her delicate fingers opening the box to reveal the gift inside.

Her face froze as she revealed the necklace, and Tyrion found himself babbling nervously as she studied it.

"You know Brienne brought me that trunk of Jamie's things? The necklace was in there – it was our mothers. When she died most of her jewels went to Cersei though my father kept some himself, and gave Jamie a few pieces to give to his wife when he married. I never got any of course, but I remember Jamie showing me that particular necklace. He was the only one who'd speak to me about my mother"

"Tyrion, it's..." she started, trailing off

Tyrion's heart lurched "Of course I'd understand completely if you didn't want it. After all you suffered at the hands of my family; the last thing you probably want is a Lannister necklace. Jamie said it was mother's favourite necklace, passed down from her mother. The chain was damaged, so I had it replaced – silver always suited you more than Lannister gold…"

"It's beautiful" said Sansa stopping his nervous chatter. Her blue eyes glistened as she moved her gaze from the necklace to him.

All at once his worry melted away, offering his wife a smile "I don't know what my mother would think of me, but everyone spoke so highly of her – I'm certain she'd love you"

"Are you sure you want me to have it? It's your mothers..."

"It's yours" he said firmly "You've made me happier than I ever thought possible Sansa. There's little good in my family, but by all accounts my mother was most of it. I'd be honoured if you'd accept it"

"Thank you" she said, her blue eyes sparkling "Will you help me with it?"

Tyrion eagerly rose from his seat, a lightness filling him that Sansa had accepted his gift. There was so little of his family he could share with her, but as soon as he found the necklace he knew who he wanted to give it to. Sweeping Sansa's hair over one shoulder, he clasped the chain behind her long neck. The golden chain had been worn out and in need of replacement, but the pendant had only needed cleaning. Stepping back around to see Sansa, she smiled proudly at the silver chain hanging around her neck. It was a simple design to have been favoured by a Lannister. The pendant was shaped like a hollow tear drop, with a thin point at the top that widened out at the bottom to hold a blue-green jewel.

"What do you think?" she asked, her tone bubbling with a youthful excitement he rarely heard

"It suits you" he said, cupping her face "my beautiful wife"

* * *

It was with great relief Arya threw open the door to her chambers. There was only so much small talk she could stand, particularly when Bran kept gazing at her as though in mourning. As soon as she stepped over the threshold of her room she knew someone had been in there.

No sooner had the thought entered her mind did needle slide into her hand. Arya's grey eyes flicked around the room, landing on a battered book left with a note on her bed. Sensing no danger in the room, Arya replaced needle on her hip and lifted the note - the tension leaving her as she recognised the hand writing.

_Arya,_

_A Lannister always pays his debts and I owe you many._

_When Ser Brienne gave me the trunk of Jamie's possessions this book was within it. The pages are somewhat damaged and my brother's writing was terrible long before he lost his hand - but this book was his._

_Jamie was the squire for Lord Sumner Crakehall, and was later knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne before joining the Kingsguard. He wasn't one for writing or reading or anything that didn't involve a sword really, but this book contains his observations of some of the greatest swordsmen Westeros has seen. I fear his notes on their sword techniques and how they fought in various battles is lost on me - I thought you might enjoy it._

_Nevertheless, I thank you for all you do for me. I would not have survived coming North without your kindness._

_Please don't kill me for entering your room. I asked Lyon to do it, but he adamantly refused - clever wolf._

_Your brother,_

_Tyrion_

A small smile curved over Arya's face as she finished reading the note and she turned her attention to the book. It was a deep red, though the cover was torn and the spine was barely holding it together. Given the destruction of Kings Landing it was a miracle this book had survived at all. Closing the door to her chambers Arya dropped into the chair by the hearth with the book in hand.

Tales of knights and battles had enthralled her as a child as much as they did Bran, and a flicker of excitement went through her at the contents of the book. Whatever dislike she'd once had of Jamie Lannister had long faded. Tyrion's obvious love for his brother and Brienne's respect for him had softened her views towards him somewhat. Her father had often derided him as a man without honour for killing the mad King. Though that had never made great sense to Arya, she'd accepted it with childish ease. The only true crime she held against Jamie was the attack on her father in Kings Landing and the deaths of Jory and the other men. Even that had softened somewhat with time. He attacked her father because her mother took Tyrion. It was revenge, and that was something Arya understood better than most.

Easing open the cover Arya began to read. If nothing else Tyrion's brother had been a great swordsman and known many great Knights - if the book gave her any insight into Ser Jamie Lannister that was a bonus.

Convincing Tyrion there was no shame in being a Lannister was an ongoing struggle, but trusting her with a piece of the brother he'd loved so much was a positive sign. Experience had taught Arya the world wasn't as simple as her parents had taught her. Honour was neither easy nor obvious, as Jon had learned with Daenerys. As she delved into the observations of Jamie Lannister she resolved to keep an open mind.

* * *

Sansa wasn't sure how, but she was certain she'd died and gone to one of the seven heavens.

Surely that was the only explanation for the wonderful night she'd shared with Tyrion. It had been romantic, intimate - everything she'd once dreamed love could be before experience made her a cynic.

After dinner Tyrion had presented her with his mother's necklace; a gift that meant the world to her. Tyrion had no memories of his mother, or anything of hers to hold on to. When he finally had a piece of the woman he didn't know - he gave it to her. It touched Sansa to know he trusted her enough to share his family with her. The necklace was beautiful and dinner had been lovely - but it was Tyrion that had truly made tonight special. Her witty, charming husband made her happier than she'd ever imagined possible.

Eventually they'd returned to Winterfell and to Sansa's joy the closeness they'd shared all night had continued. They'd changed into their night clothes and settled on the bed, bantering and teasing each other until one of them kissed the other. Sansa couldn't even remember who initiated it now as she brushed her hand through Tyrion's hair.

Whoever started it, their kiss had quickly deepened as they lay pressed against each other. Tyrion was cupping the side of her face while she tangled her hands in his curly hair; his every touch stoking a fire burning deep within her. Whenever they kissed, Sansa made sure to let Tyrion take the lead. After how she'd treated him, it was only right he set the pace - even if her heart ached each time he pulled away.

Tonight her husband seemed as lost in her as she was in him, with no sign of him letting up as his mouth continued to claim hers. Sansa decided to risk a little more contact and moved her hand to trace the lean muscles of his arm through his bed clothes. Tyrion didn't seem to mind, his own hands wandering to her neck and tangling in her hair.

With their bodies pressed so closely together, Sansa was immediately aware of something pressing against her stomach - though it took her a moment to realise what.

If Sansa hadn't figured out what it was, the blush rapidly spreading up Tyrion's neck as he realised would have told her enough. Her husband jerked back from her as soon as he realised his excitement had become noticeable, his green eyes filling with embarrassment as he glanced at the definite bulge in his breeches and back to her face.

"Sansa…I'm sorry" he said, frozen on the bed

"You've no need to be sorry" she said softly, immediately missing his warmth as he pulled away from her

"I…" he said, glancing at his breeches and back to her face

"It's alright" she soothed, reaching out to stroke his cheek "You don't need to hide from me; I'm your wife"

Tyrion's face had turned crimson at his body's betrayal, and to Sansa's disappointment he turned away from her "I…I should take care of this"

On an impulse she grasped his shoulder, stopping him from turning away. Heat crept up her own face as she met his gaze "Tyrion…you can take care of it any way you like"

Sansa didn't want to push Tyrion into doing anything he wasn't ready for, but she needed him to know she was willing to go further if he was. Whether he ever chose to use that option didn't matter – it would always be open.

"You mean…"

She took her hands off him, giving him whatever distance he needed "Whatever you want sweetheart. We can sleep, kiss some more…whatever you need to do. I don't want you to be uncomfortable"

Having laid out her position, Sansa readied herself for Tyrion to choose sleep and likely maintain a sizeable gap between them - as much as the thought pained her. Absently she wondered if this was why he often broke off their kissing and she hadn't noticed his obvious arousal before. Tonight they'd been pressed so closely together it was impossible not to notice.

To her surprise he bit his lip, indecision warring in his eyes.

Sansa smiled, hoping to reassure him. She truly didn't want to pressure Tyrion, but the considerable bulge in his breeches told her his body wasn't necessarily opposed to the idea.

"Would you want to?" he asked, fiddling with his sleeves

"I love you" she said, reaching for his hand and rubbing the back of it "Whatever you're willing to share with me is enough. I meant what I said Tyrion; only if you want to"

Sansa wasn't sure what decided for him in the end, but her heart skipped a beat when he nodded his head and inched closer to her in the bed.

A shy smile covered his face "I...I think I'd like to go further – if you do?"

"I'd like that very much, my love" she said, cupping his face and drawing him into a kiss

To Sansa's joy Tyrion lay down beside her again, though she was confused when he turned on his back - as if readying for her to get on top of him. She pressed her mouth on to his again, her heart picking up pace when he eagerly returned it. Gently she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close as the kiss deepened. Turning onto her back she pulled Tyrion with her, guiding him on top of her instead.

His brow furrowed in confusion, as she brushed her hand through his hair "Sansa, I thought…"

She shook her head "No, my love – I claimed you as mine long ago. I'm yours Tyrion; always"

He dropped his forehead against hers, murmuring softly "I understand if you need to be in control. All the power is on top – I'm willing now. I truly don't mind"

Sansa's heart swelled with love for her husband and she reached up to kiss his cheek. She loved that Tyrion understood her, perhaps better than she understood herself. The need to be in control had haunted her actions for too long though.

"I'm safe with you" she said, a light blush covering her cheeks "I'd like to know what making love really is"

A flicker of doubt crossed Tyrion's eyes for only a moment, before a gentle smile curved over his face "We'll find out together"

Sansa's mind didn't have chance to contemplate his strange words, before desire overtook her. Tyrion was kissing her again, though this time his hands wandered more freely – brushing down her neck and arms. Heat spread through her body, eager for more of something she didn't quite understand. Their kissing was growing more passionate until Tyrion pulled his mouth away from hers. Fear that she'd somehow upset him sparked in her at the action, though it instantly burned away as he began kissing his way down her neck.

"Oh, Tyrion" she said, her body trembling at his attentions.

She let her own hands roam, gripping Tyrion's arms and rubbing his back as he kissed her with such tenderness.

Her husband made his way up and down her neck, moving around by her ear until Sansa was squirming beneath him. While her mind didn't entirely understand her needs, her body did as she ground against him. This was new to her. Ramsay had spent more time hurting her than he had bedding her – presumably raping her grew boring after the first few times. Little by little she could feel Tyrion's loving attentions replacing the cruel, possessive touches she associated with sharing a bed. Her husband's every touch seemed to unleash a wave of new feelings in her.

Why was he only touching her face and neck? His own urge was straining against his breeches – surely he needed to handle that?

In the haze of pleasure Sansa realised he was waiting for her.

Sansa wouldn't force Tyrion to go any further than he was willing, but of course he wouldn't push her either.

It suddenly occurred to Sansa her night shift and his bed clothes were an unwelcome barrier. Hoping it didn't sound as wanton as she imagined, she murmured in his ear "I think I'm overdressed love"

Tyrion pulled back, a grin covering his face "I think we can handle that"

He moved back enough to let Sansa sit up and her hands fumbled to take hold of her night shift. She hesitated for a moment, remembering the scars Ramsay had left her and the pain he'd brought her in the bed. Tyrion sat back watching, his green eyes gazing at her in adoration. That decided for Sansa. She wanted to be his; for his touch and smile to be the things she remembered when she thought of sharing a bed.

Tyrion waited patiently, giving her every opportunity to back out or stop things. Steeling her nerves, Sansa pulled the shift over her head, discarding it to one side. Heat crept up her neck as her husband drank in the sight of her naked body. His eyes widened in wonder, studying her as if she were the maiden in flesh. A thrill went through her at the sight. Tyrion's gaze was full of love and tenderness, none of the possessiveness she'd come to expect from men.

"You're stunning Sansa" he said, his eyes burning into her own with something more than the love she usually found there. The hint of lust she found there set her heart racing.

Ramsay's abuse of her had stripped away the dignity she once clung to; being naked no longer frightened her as it once had – she'd suffered far worse indignities. Still she'd felt a hint of nervousness in disrobing for her husband, a small part of her fearing his disappointment at her used body. Tyrion's reaction had soon stopped the doubt. For the first time she felt as though a man was looking at her and seeing her – not her name or titles or power.

A lightness spread from Sansa's chest throughout her body as her husband raked his eyes over her. She felt no desire to hide from his gaze or embarrassment that she was naked – this was the man she loved and Sansa had never felt safer.

"You truly are a Queen amongst women" he murmured

It was then Sansa noticed the self-consciousness creeping into his face as his hands fidgeted with the blankets. She wouldn't allow that; however long it took she would convince Tyrion how wonderful he was.

She reached forwards, lightly brushing the buttons of his night shirt "Do I get to see my husband?"

"I...you're a beautiful woman Sansa" he said, sadness sweeping over his face "you deserve better than this"

Sansa inched closer to Tyrion who appeared to be frozen to the spot. Settling directly in front of him, she laid her hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing through his bed clothes.

"I love you" she said, staring directly into his eyes "I'll tell you as often as you need to hear it. I don't deserve you Tyrion, my sweet husband – but you are mine and I am yours"

"I'm yours" he said hoarsely, his hands brushing her bare skin with a feather light touch

She leaned her head against his, her hands wandering again to his night shirt "I'd like to see my husband. Can I remove these rather pesky barriers?"

Tyrion smiled tightly, nodding his head forwards as his hands began to roam. Removing Tyrion's clothes took a bit more fumbling than she would have liked, but her husband was distracting himself by lavishing her with kisses that trailed down her neck to the top of her breasts as his hands wandered gently around the curves of her body. He was exploring her as if she were a delicate piece of glass; a fact that both thrilled her and left her hungry for more. By the time she'd removed Tyrion's bed shirt, she was almost too distracted to do his breeches.

"You're distracting me" she groaned as he nipped at her collarbone

"My plan is working?" he said lightly, resuming his attentions

Sansa tried to regain her focus. It would be so easy to let Tyrion lavish her with attention while accepting none himself. Though it pained her, she gently gripped his shoulders pushing him back.

Immediately he stopped, his eyes darting to hers with worry "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?"

"Oh no – what you were doing was...so lovely" she said, sighing in contentment "I thought...maybe I could make you happy too?"

"You already do"

There was a hint of panic in his green eyes, but he didn't resist as she guided him to lie on the bed. It was only with Tyrion treating her so gently did she truly realise how little she knew of love. She knew it didn't have to be painful, but never had she imagined it to be so tender. Her husband's touches had brought her nothing but pleasure so far, and her body was practically begging for more but she wanted Tyrion to enjoy this too. With Tyrion lying topless before her she leaned down next to him, her hands starting at his shoulders and gently moving across his chest, taking in the feel of the muscle he'd earned in the practice yard before trailing across the long scar that covered his torso.

"You've been holding out on me love" she said, kissing the top of his chest and working her way downwards to his breeches "Your sword practice is proving to have many benefits"

A laugh rumbled in his chest as his hands played with her hair "I'm glad you're satisfied wife"

Warmth rushed through Sansa at his words, and she lifted her gaze to his - silently asking his permission to continue. He hesitated only a moment before nodding, and Sansa went to work easing his breeches down. She could feel the nervous energy growing in her husband as she worked, as if subconsciously preparing for some form of rejection - something that would never happen.

The bulge in his breeches sprang free eagerly, and Tyrion gave a muffled groan as her hand accidentally brushed against the tip of his cock. Discarding the breeches to one side, she settled down beside Tyrion in the bed, rubbing her hand across his side and pressing tighter to him.

"You're very handsome" she told him, hoping he could see the sincerity in her eyes "don't feel like you need to hide from me. I love you Tyrion, all of you"

"I love you too" he said, his green eyes shining

Sansa had wanted to make sure Tyrion knew she found him every bit as desirable as he made her feel, but what they'd shared so far had shown Sansa how very little she knew. Letting go of control was for once a comforting thought as she settled back to follow Tyrion's lead.

Her husband's physical urge was impossible to ignore as it pressed against her stomach, and Sansa wasted no time guiding Tyrion on top of her again – letting him know she was both ready and happy for him to continue. To her surprise Tyrion didn't immediately push himself inside her as she'd expected – but went back to working his way down her body from top to bottom. Sansa had no idea what he was waiting for, but she let her hands brush through his hair and explore his body as he gifted her with more pleasure than she'd ever thought possible.

Every caress, every kiss left her body tingling as he moved his attention to her breasts and then travelled lower. Part of Sansa was rather confused about where he could possibly be going as he moved down her stomach, though her mind was lost in a haze of bliss until he went _there_.

Pleasure flooded her body as she arched her back, her eyes finding Tyrion's head somewhere she never expected it to be.

"Oh, Tyrion..." she moaned, gripping the bed sheets as he continued his work

He lifted his head long enough to shoot her an impish grin before returning his attentions to a place Sansa had never known to hold such pleasure.

"Tyrion!" she begged, practically writhing on the bed

"Yes, dear?" he asked innocently, moving his head from down there only for his fingers to begin exploring

"Gods, please!"

"Please?"

"I need you" she groaned "please!"

Tyrion's smile widened, and he slid his fingers out from her and propped himself above her. His face turned serious for a moment, searching her eyes "Are you certain you want this?"

Sansa reached forwards to touch him, her hands stroking his face "Yes, my love, yes"

His gaze lingered on hers a moment longer before he pulled back to position himself. Sansa was more than ready when he slipped inside her and began moving. Gods, where did he get the control? Sansa felt like a wanton whore as she met his gentle thrusts, hungry for more.

With Tyrion sheathed inside her, his head was once again within reach and Sansa wasted no time running her hands over all of him that she could reach. She brushed her hands through his hair, gripping his arms as he increased his pace. His gaze faltered for only a moment when she brushed the brand on his back, but she quickly turned her attention elsewhere.

"Sansa" he groaned, his eyes moving to her "do you want me to finish?"

In the grip of her own pleasure it took her a moment to realise what he was asking. As naive as she was about love making, she understood his implication. If he finished inside there was the chance of a baby - or he could pull out.

"Whatever you want" she breathed, leaning forward to kiss the top of his head "I love you"

His green eyes flashed with conflict for the briefest moment, but Sansa was lost in the wondrous feelings flooding her body as she found her release – Tyrion's seed spilling in her a moment later.

Sansa panted heavily, a smile drifting across her face as her body climbed down from its climax. Unexpectedly she felt heat pricking at her eyes.

Her husband pulled out, propping himself up over her, the blissful smile on his face quickly morphed to panic as he saw her face "Did I hurt you?"

"Never" she said, her voice thick as she wound her arms around him

Tyrion didn't resist, his hand rubbing her arm soothingly "Are you alright?"

"I'm better than alright sweetheart" she said, offering him a smile "Is it always like that Tyrion?"

His face twisted in sympathy before his mouth turned upwards "It should be. Did you enjoy it?"

"That was beautiful" she breathed.

"Good"

Tyrion pulled away from her, but to her joy he only grabbed the blankets. She tugged at his arms, her eyes pleading for him to stay with her. A grin covered his face as he lay back on top of her, covering them both with the blankets as she wound her arms around him.

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked, nuzzling into his neck

"Very much"

"Tyrion, are you...satisfied? You did so much for me and I did nothing for you"

"I'm more than satisfied" he said, a dreamy smile spread over his face "You've quite exhausted me wife"

Sansa laughed, kissing his cheek "Can we stay like this?"

"I haven't the energy to move" he said, cuddling against her "If I drool too much or you have enough of me, just push me to one side will you?"

"I will never have enough of you Tyrion Lannister"

"That's good to know" he said, yawning sleepily "I've no intention of going anywhere"


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

It occurred to Arya that perhaps she should start knocking.

On the other hand, she hadn't expected to barge into Sansa's chambers this morning to find her and Tyrion naked in bed. Both had clearly been asleep when the sound of the door woke them. She couldn't see much of her sister as Tyrion was lying on top of her – but it was very obvious what they'd been doing.

"Arya!" shrieked Sansa, wrapping her arms tightly around Tyrion as if to shield her modesty

The lord of Winterfell was somewhat slower on the uptake, sleepily lifting his head "Arya's here?"

"Yes" said Sansa "Stay still"

Arya remained rooted to the spot as Sansa tried to hide herself beneath Tyrion. The furs and blankets covered most of them but Arya could clearly see Tyrion's bare back – the brand glaring angrily at her across the room. She swallowed thickly at the sight. Since Tyrion had healed enough to wear proper clothes Arya hadn't seen his back, and even before that she'd taken care to not let Tyrion catch her staring. The old scars across his back and the brand on his shoulder were in perfect view now and the sight stirred her stomach. Revenge would come sooner or later.

"Why are you here?" asked Sansa, poking her head over Tyrion's shoulder

Arya blinked, remembering why she came "Oh, I came for Tyrion"

"I'm rather occupied" he said, yawning "Your sister is using me as a blanket"

"You shouldn't just barge in here" snapped Sansa

"Oh, and why's that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Finding Tyrion and Sansa in such a position was quite the surprise. Arya knew they'd gotten closer, but she hadn't realised quite how far they'd come. As pleased as she was for them, Arya had no intention of letting Sansa out of this easily. Years on from their childhood and causing her older sister to squirm was still a great source of amusement.

Arya made her way around the side of the bed as Sansa yelped and buried herself under Tyrion. Her husband took pity on her, reaching back and tugging the blankets further around them.

"So why shouldn't I barge in here?" she asked

Tyrion's mouth twitched up as he laid against Sansa, though the Queen's face reddened.

"We could be dealing with important business" she said

"Oh? Like what?"

"Matters of state"

Tyrion's eyes flicked fondly to his wife's increasingly red face as Sansa cuddled him against like her favourite toy.

"These matters of state require you to be undressed?" probed Arya as Tyrion rolled his eyes. He knew where this was going, but was wise enough to leave them to it.

Despite how brightly her face was burning Sansa still managed to construct a Queenly face. She locked her eyes on Arya with as much seriousness as she could.

"Yes. It was vitally important"

"So what was so important?"

Arya's mouth turned upwards as her sister squirmed for the answer. Sansa had always been a proper lady; discussing such matters had her stuttering like a maiden. She fully expected Sansa to turn to Tyrion for help, but to her surprise the Queen held her head with as much dignity as she could.

"The lord of Winterfell had pressing business that needed handling"

Tyrion spluttered in shock, his eyes finding Sansa who was trying hard to keep a regal face.

"Gods Sansa, is that your idea of a euphemism?" said Arya, a laugh slipping from her

"I don't know what you're talking about" said Sansa, kissing her husband's head "We've been hard at work"

"You might as well just tell her we were fucking" said Tyrion, shaking his head in resignation "I've much to teach you wife"

"I'm eager to learn" said Sansa softly

The two met each other's gaze, a tender smile crossing their faces as they lost themselves in each other. To Arya it was both heart-warming and awkward – she'd honestly never expected to find them like this. Part of her wanted to leave them in peace, but she'd come here for a reason and Arya hated a wasted journey.

Reaching across she flicked the side of Tyrion's head.

"Ow" he complained, lying his head back on Sansa as she brushed her fingers through his hair "That's not very nice little sister"

"I need your attention"

"I suppose you can have it" he said, his mouth twitching upwards "though I do believe Sansa is challenging you for it"

"Thanks for the book you left"

"You like it?"

"It's interesting. Jamie knew a lot of great Knights"

"He did" agreed Tyrion "I thought you might get some use out of it. New ways to kill people and such"

"Always good to know" said Arya "I've decided not to kill you for entering my room"

"I couldn't bribe anyone else to do it" said Tyrion, nuzzling contentedly into Sansa as she played with his hair "I was rather worried you had traps set in there. It was quite the stressful venture"

"Is there anything else we can do for you?" asked Sansa, narrowing her eyes at Arya

A grin spread across Arya's face "In a hurry big sister?"

"Well there's breakfast to be eaten, council meetings to attend and a Kingdom to run"

"I'm not stopping you" said Arya as Sansa's face tightened

"I'll handle this" said Tyrion, turning his head up to kiss his wife's jaw "Lyon chase!"

When nothing happened all their heads turned to Lyon's corner. The little wolf was lying on his side, a sad whimper coming from him. He looked as though he had neither the energy nor will to answer his master's call.

"Gods, what did you do to Lyon?" asked Arya

Tyrion sighed "I told him all that meat was no good for him"

"You mean that huge lump of meat I saw Nessa with yesterday?"

"Yes. I owed him a debt and he requested a piece of meat as big as him – I don't know how he managed to eat all of it"

Between the comatose wolf in the corner and Sansa and Tyrion's bed situation, Arya decided she'd started the day with as much strangeness as she could handle.

* * *

As Sansa took her seat with her council the familiar weight of responsibility dropped onto her once more. Taking a day off yesterday had been a great relief and Tyrion had implored her to take as much time as she needed, but she couldn't neglect her duty. What she'd seen in the past would haunt her for many nights to come, but it was the past - the present and future needed her attention.

"How are you, your Grace?" enquired lord Cerwyn

"Much better, thank you" she said, smiling at the young man.

The meeting was comprised of herself, Tyrion, Arya, Maester Wolkan and Alec as well as lady Tallhart and lord Cerwyn. The older woman smiled in greeting - she was the only one who knew what action she would propose today. Sansa had intended to tell Tyrion last night but he'd swept her away for a romantic night and talking about work hadn't seemed right.

"I'd like to thank you all for your continued support, particularly yesterday when I was unavailable" she started "I think it would be best to start with anything I missed yesterday. Lord Tyrion, is there anything to report from the court sessions?"

Her husband and Wolkan shared a nervous look that made her stomach twist "Most of the issues were common place, but there were a lot of merchants who'd been experiencing the same problem"

"What problem was that?" she asked

Tyrion glanced at her apologetically "It appears many of the goods the merchants ship through White Harbour are not being sent onto the merchants"

"There have been no reports of issues at White Harbour" she said "Do the merchants have any idea why?"

Her husband wouldn't meet her gaze "No, your Grace. There's been no change in their agreements with White Harbour or issues with payment. The issue appears to have mostly affected the villages near Winterfell"

It took a moment for Sansa to process what Tyrion was saying, but when she did a fire ignited in her gut, burning hotly through her veins "This is deliberate"

Tyrion nodded "That's what we believe"

Cley leaned forward in his chair "There have been a few instances of the same happening to my merchants. Not enough to raise concern, but knowing what's happened here…"

"Torrhens Square has had a few reports as well. As lord Cerwyn said, not quite enough to appear suspicious but enough to trouble the small folk" added lady Tallhart, her mouth curving with displeasure

"This won't go unpunished" said Sansa, to a chorus of nods. Arya smirked at her, grey eyes darting to Tyrion and back again. Of course - her sister had been at the court session wearing a different face. None of this was news to her, but she was going along with it anyway. However Tyrion had handled it had clearly amused Arya.

"What did you tell the merchants?" asked Sansa, returning her gaze to Tyrion who was fiddling with his sleeves

"I asked Maester Wolkan to take an inventory from each of the merchants of the goods delayed or not received. I told them the loss of profit would be paid back double to them and charged to lord Manderly. If it continued he would be charged triple" said Tyrion, dropping his head when he finished - as if worried he'd overstepped his bounds

Sansa would never understand why Tyrion doubted himself as lord. His ruling on the issue was both fair and a deterrent to lord Manderly. She'd given Tyrion the authority to rule in her stead and he'd clearly done so with as much ease as she'd imagined. The only problem was his self-confidence.

"Good" said Sansa "I won't allow this to continue. Lord Tyrion's ruling will stand for any merchant across the North. I will write to lord Manderly and demand answers as well. Maester, do you have the lists?"

"Yes, your Grace" he said, sliding a pile of papers towards her "These are the missing items from the local merchants. If you intend to expand the ruling across the North, I can write to the other Maesters across the North and ask them to provide similar evidence"

Sansa nodded "I shall leave that to you Maester. Any other issues?"

Tyrion visibly relaxed at her acceptance of his decision as the talk moved on to some of the minor issues that had come up. Sansa found herself relaxing more too. She'd taken a day off but everything had still been done. Maester Wolkan had handled any correspondence, Alec had continued to co-ordinate the hunt for Robin and Gawan and received word from lord Mazin that they'd met the wildlings fleeing south and were on their way to Ramsgate. Lady Tallhart and lord Cerwyn had entertained Bran's royal party at dinner in her absence.

The biggest help had been Tyrion, of course. He'd done his own duty as lord and completed hers too - listening to petitioners, making decisions and simply leading. Tyrion may not like the power that came with his position, but he was well suited for it.

Alec had just finished reporting on the wildling movement when Arya spoke up.

"Tyrion, I heard you cut someone's fingers off yesterday?"

Sansa's head whipped to Arya and then to her husband, who was rapidly sinking into his seat. Arya was feigning ignorance but she'd been there - she'd seen. Tyrion hadn't mentioned punishing anyone, but Arya bringing it up as an innocent question was going to force his hand. Her stomach churned at the question, worry washing through her.

"You heard?"

"I hear everything brother" said Arya "Who was it?"

"A butcher from the village" said Tyrion, squirming in his seat

"Was he rude to you?" blurted Sansa

Annoyance flickered in Tyrion's eyes "Do I look like my father?"

Sansa clamped her mouth shut. Of course not; Tyrion wouldn't punish someone for an insult.

"The butcher falsely accused a boy of stealing" said Cley, breaking the odd tension between them

Tyrion's green eyes bore into her "He accused a boy of stealing when he was the real thief. The man would have let me mutilate the boy if Lyon hadn't realised something was wrong. The boy's father died and the butcher refused to pay what was owed to his family, so the lad took it himself. I took three fingers from the butcher"

"Serves him right" said lady Tallhart, her nose wrinkling "Poor boy"

"Lord Tyrion carried the sentence himself" added Cley, a hint of admiration in his eyes

Shame crept through Sansa for her rash words "A just sentence, my lord"

Tyrion nodded, the annoyance fading from him as quickly as it came. The butcher had more than deserved it, though she was surprised Tyrion had done it himself. As sweet and kind as her husband was, he was no stranger to battle and blood - why should she be surprised he performed the duty as any Northern lord would?

She smiled across at him, hoping to convey an apology. Sansa hadn't meant to offend him, but she could see how her words would sound to him. Her assumption that he would resort to such measures lightly had clearly struck a nerve. To her relief, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. She'd speak to him about it later - for now there was another matter to deal with.

Straightening in her seat, Sansa set forth what would happen next "As you're all aware the hunt for Robin and Gawan has continued without result. I spoke with lady Tallhart yesterday and I believe it's time we changed our approach"

Alec leaned forwards in his chair "What will we do, your Grace?"

"They're hiding in the North somewhere, and I refuse to believe no-one knows where they are. Gawan is the heir to Deepwood Motte but Robin is lord of his house. I will send a force to Widows Watch and reclaim it in the crown's name. Any of Robin's men found there will be taken prisoner"

"Your Grace, Widow's Watch has been checked several times - they aren't hiding there" said Cley

"You're hoping to smoke them out of hiding" said Arya, nodding in approval "it might work. Losing his ancestral home won't look good for a would be King"

"That isn't my plan" said Sansa, a smile creeping over her face "There are too many empty seats further North - doubtless they're hiding in one of them or moving between them. I intend to install a garrison at each until suitable lords can be found to rule the lands. We've had guards searching them for weeks but I believe they need to be permanently manned"

"A decisive action, your Grace" said Alec "Though I fear there aren't enough Winterfell guards to man such an operation and protect Winterfell"

"I've already pledged my men to this course of action" said lady Tallhart

"As will I" said Cley, inclining his head "my men are yours"

Tyrion drummed his fingers on the edge of the table "It's quite likely such action force them into the open. Though it is a bold move, my Queen; to Robin and Gawan's supporters it will be seen as an act of war - not to mention lord Glover"

Her husband was right and it was precisely why she'd avoided such action until now. Such open action against the heir to one house and lord of another was a risky strategy - particularly with lord Glover and lord Manderly remaining impassive. For too long she'd tiptoed around the issue, keen to keep the peace in the North. Seeing the Wolfswood herself had shattered whatever restraint she had. The monsters that hurt Tyrion would not be free any longer.

Sansa locked her eyes on her husband's uncertain face "If there is war, let there be war"

* * *

"We'll be on our way soon" said Ser Davos, rubbing his hands together for warmth "Do you reckon Bran will be sad to go?"

"It's hard to tell with Bran" said Brienne, watching Pod train with the guards below. She stood with the older Knight on a covered bridge that overlooked the training yard; the Northern breeze both cold and welcoming.

It had taken time but Pod had grown into a very capable fighter. He was loyal to a fault and served those in need – the very basis of a good Knight. She'd respected Bran's decision in turning him down for the Kingsguard but she hadn't understood it.

"Have you enjoyed your time North Ser Brienne?" he asked

"It's nice to see Arya and Sansa again"

"Aye. Shame we couldn't see Jon, but I'm not sure I'd last beyond the wall. It's bloody cold enough here"

"What about you Ser Davos? We've only a few days left up here. I can't see Bran wanting to return for a while"

"I'd say it's been a nice break, but all I've done is work"

Brienne's gut twisted in guilt "I fear I haven't done much to help on that count"

"Don't worry. At least I haven't lost you. Gods know where Bronn is" said Ser Davos, shaking his head

"Bran seems certain he'll return"

"If the King isn't concerned I should probably relax"

Brienne returned her attention to the training going on below. Podrick was Bran's sworn shield but the King seemed to have less and less use for him. Pod wasn't one to complain, but he had asked her the other night if he'd done anything to displease the King. She understood her former squire's frustration – there was nothing obvious behind the shift in Bran's attitude. If anything he'd grown increasingly morbid; as if preparing for a loss or end to something.

"At least Ser Podrick's enjoyed the trip" said Ser Davos, leaning on the railing

"He's quite fond of lord Tyrion. Seeing him again after hearing what happened has certainly cheered him up"

"Aye. Lord Tyrion isn't like he used to be that's for sure"

"Neither's Sansa" said Brienne, her hand resting on Oathkeeper "I was worried when I left her service to serve Bran. She'd suffered horrendously and there was such coldness around her..."

"You don't need to remind me. It took her a long while to warm up knowing I once served Stannis" said Ser Davos

"We all served different Kings and Queens" said Brienne "Renly, Stannis, Daenerys"

"We all believed in them too" said Ser Davos, bitterness colouring his tone "Until they showed us what they really were"

Brienne nodded. She'd heard about Stannis burning his own daughter – and how close Davos had been with her.

"I'm happy for Sansa. She got her home back and seems very happy with Tyrion" she said "I worried she'd be alone when Pod and I left"

"She seems happy" agreed Davos "So does Tyrion. I didn't hold out much hope when he was sentenced in Kings Landing – he was a broken man"

"Yes, they've certainly been good for each other"

"Bran's taking the afternoon off to do something with Tyrion in the Godswood" said Davos, raising his eyebrows

Brienne sighed, gripping the railing "Gods, I hope this goes better than it did with Sansa"

"So do I. Arya was near murderous the first time"

"He can't mean to show lord Tyrion something – wouldn't he need to be a Northerner?"

Ser Davos shrugged "Bran said he tried it with me and it didn't work"

"Did you even know what he was doing?" asked Brienne, her brow furrowing

"Nope. Not a clue" he said, stepping away from the railing "But when your King orders ya to sit nice and quiet in the Godswood for a few hours you don't say no"

"What did you think he was doing?" she asked, casting a final glance at Pod before following the Kings Hand back into the warmth of Winterfell

"I've learned its better not to ask"

"You didn't find anything odd about his request?"

Ser Davos shrugged "I thought he was giving me a well-earned break"

* * *

Tyrion was barely aware of what he was putting in his mouth as he consumed lunch. Memories of last night swirled through his mind and putting them in any semblance of an order was proving problematic.

His surprise had gone far better than he could have hoped. All of yesterday he'd worried Sansa might not like his surprise or reject his gift, but the smile on his wife's face when he removed the blindfold had quickly slayed his fears. Glancing across at Sansa eating beside him, he was pleased to see the necklace hanging proudly around her slender neck.

At dinner they'd talked and laughed so openly Tyrion feared it may have all been a dream. Returning to Winterfell they'd continued their affections until his enthusiasm had become noticeable. A flicker of embarrassment went through him at the memory of Sansa noticing his cock had stirred to life like a green boy.

Honestly he was fortunate she hadn't noticed sooner. Their kissing and growing closeness the past few weeks had reawakened a long absent desire in his lower region which Tyrion hadn't been ready to take further. Unfortunately it had gotten increasingly difficult to ignore. A hand through his hair, a gentle smile and Sansa's lips on his for even a moment – the slightest affection from his wife had his cock stirring in his breeches.

However willing his body was, part of him had still been reluctant to go further. His reluctance had nothing to do with Sansa's bedding of him and everything to do with his own nerves. It was irrational and somewhat ridiculous but he'd feared bedding Sansa. His every experience of sex had been paid for, knowingly or not. For so many years he'd confused sex with love.

_'I'd like to know what making love really is'_

Sweet Sansa. Given his reputation it was only natural for her to assume he knew what it was. In reality he knew no more than she did. Yes, he knew many things about fucking. Making love was an entirely different story. In the end he'd given into his body's urges. It wasn't fair that his insecurities come between him and his wife.

Seeing how unsure Sansa was as they progressed had given him some confidence at least - he knew how to please a woman and it was increasingly obvious Sansa had never experienced any pleasure in bed.

Tyrion was so lost in his thoughts he missed the tell-tale signs of cramping in his hand until a spasm went through it and his fork clattered to the ground.

He winced, searching the floor for his fork as his hand throbbed. Almost immediately soft hands enclosed his damaged one, drawing his attention to Sansa's concerned blue eyes.

"Are you alright sweetheart?" she asked, gently massaging his hand with her fingers

"I'm fine" he said, a blush colouring his cheeks at her ministrations

Sansa didn't stop, her warm hands soothing the ache as she rubbed it "You don't seem to get cramp as often"

"No, but it's rather embarrassing when I do"

"You've no need to be embarrassed my love. It's only been seven weeks since you were hurt" said Sansa, her blue eyes growing distant as she examined his hand

Tyrion swallowed thickly. Sansa knew exactly what had happened to his hand now - how he'd acquired so many injuries. She'd seen his complete and utter humiliation at the hands of Robin and Gawan. Yet somehow she still loved him. No disgust or blame - only fury on his behalf and a tenderness she gave only to him.

"I love you" he said, his heart filling with warmth for his sweet wife.

"And I love you" she replied, her own mouth curving into a smile as she continued massaging his hand

What he'd shared with Sansa last night had far exceeded any false notion of love he'd found in the arms of whores. Now he understood what it meant to make love - to trust someone completely. Despite the horror Sansa had endured with Ramsay she'd been brave enough to push through her fears, trusting him to take care of her. Even as she'd removed her shift, he'd seen a tiny slither of doubt in her eyes - most likely because of the scars. The Bolton bastard had left several scars around Sansa's legs and more across her back and hips. Some were small and faded, others had clearly cut deeper.

Tyrion hated that anyone had hurt Sansa. He'd gladly bring Ramsay back to life just to kill him himself. His wife needn't fear any rejection from him however - she was the most stunning woman he'd ever seen and her scars were only proof of her victory against those who'd hurt her. If nothing else, seeing Sansa so vulnerable before him had confirmed his own theories; that she didn't truly understand bedding and how it was supposed to be. The biggest reason he'd been able to forgive Sansa for taking him in the bed was because he suspected she knew no better. To her the marriage bed was a power struggle, where there was a victim and a victor.

It meant the world that she trusted him enough to show her differently. That it wasn't about power and control; that it could bring her pleasure rather than pain. Tyrion regretted nothing about last night, though there was one action that left him conflicted. It had played on his mind all day and he knew Sansa had noticed his distance, her blue eyes watching him with worry.

"What are you thinking about my love?"

The gentle voice drew his attention to Sansa - and his hand clasped between hers.

"Oh, sorry" he said sheepishly, moving to withdraw his hand "It's better now, thank you"

The Queen raised an eyebrow, tightening her grip "I never said you could have it back. You've been staring at the table for so long I've decided to keep your hand"

"Oh, have you?"

"Yes" she said, lifting the appendage and kissing the palm of it "All mine now"

Tyrion laughed as she returned his hand to the table, firmly clasped in her own.

"What's distracting you so?" she asked again "Is it what I said earlier?"

"What you said?"

"In the meeting" she reminded him "I'm sorry Tyrion - I never meant it at all like it sounded. I know you'd never punish someone for an insult; I was just worried someone had threatened you"

"Oh" he said, recalling her words and his prickly response "its fine Sansa. I just…don't want to be like my family"

"You never could be"

If there was one thing Tyrion was certain of, it was his desire to not become his father. The idea he would maim a man for insulting him had struck a raw nerve. No matter what he wouldn't become his family.

"Are you sure you're ok?" she asked, her blue eyes swimming with concern "You can tell me anything"

Tyrion wavered in the face of Sansa's concern. He knew he needed to talk to her but his thoughts were just too muddled. Perhaps when he got those thoughts in order he would be ready.

He forced a smile "I'm fine, just thinking"

"If you're sure" she conceded, squeezing his hand "No-one's upset you?"

"No"

"Challenged your authority?"

"Certainly not"

"Questioned your status as a Northern lion?"

Tyrion couldn't help but laugh at Sansa's playful smile.

"Not that I'm aware of"

Sansa leaned in, her fingers stroking his cheek "If you're sure sweetheart. I'll happily sheep shift their beds for you"

A grin spread across Tyrion's face "Sansa Stark - who knew you were capable of such unladylike thoughts!"

"They'd never suspect it was me" she said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper "We could do Bronn's bed first. It would serve him right for wandering off"

"A tempting idea"

"We could do Arya too - for walking in on us this morning"

"Gods no! Can you imagine what kind of revenge she'd take? We'd have to take turns sleeping and walk around the castle in pairs"

Sansa's blue eyes sparked with mischief as they conspired, and Tyrion's heart soared at the sight. He loved seeing Sansa smile and laugh. No matter how he tried to push his worries aside, that one decision from last night continued to eat at him however. In the moment spilling his seed in Sansa had seemed right - she wanted children. In the fresh light of morning his oldest guilt came back to him. Would bearing his child condemn Sansa to the same fate as his mother?

The sight of her tender smile and the feel of her delicate hand clutching his own - Tyrion knew he wouldn't survive losing Sansa.

* * *

"When the trial?"

Grey Worm watched the guard hand twitch at the question. He'd seen this man before – in the Wolfswood and then with Arya Stark. After so many weeks of watching he'd learnt to recognise the guards who brought him food and emptied the bucket for his business. This was the one he'd been waiting for; the one who was in charge.

"Finally found your voice?" he asked, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword "You've not spoken to any of the guards since you arrived. Why now?"

Grey Worm shrugged "You captain. Other guards won't know when trial is"

The man nodded "The Queen hasn't decided yet"

He let his head fall back against the wall, his eyes landing on the chains around his wrists and ankles. The mother of dragons had freed him – and now he was a prisoner again. For weeks he'd tried to make sense of the accusations; how he could have possibly helped slavers. At first he was certain it was a trick, but with all the time he had there was little else to do but analyse what had happened, and it didn't look good.

"You catch slavers yet?" he asked

"That's not your concern"

That meant no. Grey Worm shifted on the bed to appraise the man. He had short, light brown hair and a beard - his face was twisted with disdain as he glared into the cell.

"You friends with Lannister" said Grey Worm "You asked in the forest if I cause injuries - I did not"

"No, you just tried to kill him"

"For Queen"

"Your Queen slaughtered a city and you killed men on their knees. Think you were any better than those you were killing?"

"This place is evil" snapped Grey Worm "Everything go wrong when we come here. Missandei died in chains. Not right - she was free woman"

The guards face didn't change, but sympathy shifted through his eyes for the briefest moment.

"Cersei was evil and deserved to die. Your Queen was no better in the end" he said

Grey Worm eyed the man "What of your Queen?"

"A good Queen - and just. Your trial will come" he said, turning on his heel and heading down the corridor.

Grey Worm listened until his steps faded down the corridor. He didn't quite know why he'd bothered asking the guard about the trial. He was guilty of trying to kill Tyrion and he would die for it.

He'd made his peace with that; it was his role in slavery that haunted him. It spat on every value he had - on everything Queen Daenerys had believed in. His eyes moved to his chained hands and then the missing fingers on his right hand. If not for the wolf, Tyrion would be dead - justice would have been found.

Grey Worm flexed the remaining fingers, gritting his teeth at the spikes of pain where his other fingers once were. Unsullied were supposed to feel no pain.

* * *

A knock on the door in the early afternoon was rarely cause for alarm, though Sansa was surprised to find Pod waiting outside.

"Ser Podrick" she greeted, stepping aside to let the young man enter

"Good afternoon, your Grace" he returned, bowing his head

Her husband lifted his head from the map they'd both been studying, a smile crossing his face at the sight of his former squire.

"Ah, Pod. What can we do for you?"

The Queen shut the door before resuming her seat at the table. Following lunch she and Tyrion had pulled out a map of the North to plan out which seats were the priority to reclaim and any smaller holdfasts that could be used by Robin and Gawan. Lady Tallhart and lord Cerwyn would return to their own seats tomorrow and the bulk of the plan needed to be finalised by then.

Turning her gaze to Pod, Sansa gestured to an empty seat "Would you like to join us?"

He smiled, shaking his head "Thank you, but I've come at King Bran's request"

Sansa's eyes narrowed. She had yet to see her younger brother after the Godswood "What does he want?"

"The King has requested lord Tyrion join him in the Godswood"

Sansa's blood turned to ice as her gaze snapped to Tyrion. The lord of Winterfell didn't seem at all surprised as he nodded.

"I wondered when he wanted me to meet him"

"You knew?" she asked

"I spoke to Bran yesterday and he said he wished to show me something in the Godswood" said Tyrion, glancing at Pod "I suppose it's time"

Sansa's heart crawled into her throat. After the horror Bran had shown her…surely he didn't intend to show Tyrion?

"Did he say what he was going to show you?" asked Sansa, reaching out to grasp her husband's arm

"No. He just asked me to meet him in the Godswood"

She turned her eyes to Pod, who had the decency to look sheepish "Do you know what Bran wants?"

"He said it was a gift for lord Tyrion's name day and I'm to bring him alone"

"Very well" agreed Tyrion easily, rising from his chair

Sansa tightened her grip on her husband, stilling his movement. Tyrion raised an eyebrow, but nodded at Pod. The young Knight's shoulders sagged with relief as he quickly made his way out of the room. The door clicking shut until only she and Tyrion remained.

"Are you alright?" he asked

"Tyrion…what Bran showed me was awful. You can't mean to go?"

A smile tugged at his mouth "I don't think Bran is going to show me anything. I have no Northern blood. When I spoke to him yesterday he said you only saw because you were Queen and the old Gods allowed it. They're hardly going to let a dwarf from the Westerlands see anything"

Sansa swallowed thickly. He'd agreed to go so easily because he didn't believe anything was going to happen. Sansa had doubted too until she found herself trapped in an unending nightmare. Bran hadn't been there to guide her and openly admitted to losing control.

"Bran's powers are strange" she warned "It could be dangerous"

"He's your brother"

"That didn't stop him from showing me what he did. I love Bran but he's not who he used to be. Please, don't go"

Tyrion covered her hand with his own, offering her a smile "Bran is certainly different but I don't believe he has malicious intentions towards any of us. He holds the world's memory - a great burden, but equally fascinating"

It was then Sansa knew she'd lost him. The curious gleam in his eyes wouldn't be satisfied until he saw whatever Bran planned to do. His cynicism had him believe he wouldn't see anything at all, but the chance to see Bran's powers himself was too good to pass up. Considering how unhelpful her brother had been, Tyrion did seem to have a soft spot for Bran. While the three-eyed raven's vague words and emotionless tone frustrated her and Arya to varying degrees, Tyrion merely accepted it - listening to whatever he said with mild curiosity.

"If you're sure" she conceded, biting her lip

"It'll be fine Sansa" said Tyrion, pressing a kiss to her forehead "I'll see you later"

As Tyrion moved to the door a bark sounded, and Lyon waddled forwards to join him. After his large meal last night the little wolf had spent most of the day sleeping it off.

"You're coming too?" he asked

Lyon barked again, padding over to his side.

"Very well" said Tyrion "The walk certainly won't hurt you after last night, though Bran might want you to wait outside the Godswood"

Tyrion shot her a reassuring smile before him and Lyon left. It had taken everything in Sansa to not beg him to stay, but Arya's words from yesterday came back to her. She couldn't shield Tyrion from everything. He wasn't her prisoner or her child.

It was likely Tyrion was right and it wouldn't work. Bran had tried with Ser Davos and nothing had happened - all her worry could be for nothing. Still, she wouldn't relax until Tyrion returned.

Accepting she couldn't make Tyrion's decisions for him was difficult, but it was right. However much she resolved to let go of her need for control, it always wavered under pressure. She couldn't convince Tyrion or go with him - all she could do was hope it went well and be here for him when he returned.

* * *

"Are you sure Lyon's alright to join us?"

Bran smiled "Yes, Lyon won't disturb us"

It was other people he was worried about. Bran found it better to keep the Godswood clear while he tried this. What he was doing involved using a lot of his own power and required cooperation from the old Gods.

The three-eyed raven turned his focus to Tyrion as the golden wolf wandered off through the trees. The lord of Winterfell was sat on a log leaning against the heart tree as Sansa had the day before last. Recovering his strength from showing Sansa had taken its toll but Bran hoped this would be easier.

"I'm surprised Sansa let you come, considering what she saw"

"Now that you mention it, she wasn't keen on the idea" said Tyrion, kicking his feet against the log

"My sisters don't trust me anymore"

Tyrion tilted his head, considering the statement "I think it's more complicated than that. They do love you though"

_'I hope you're right'_ thought Bran.

He had one final task in the North and it wouldn't be pleasant. Pushing aside the thought of what was to come, Bran focused on what he was about to do. Tyrion was smiling amicably but his eyes betrayed him; he was a sceptic at heart.

"Ready for your name day gift?" asked Bran

"I suppose" said Tyrion "though you know there's no need to bother"

Bran allowed himself a smile "Of course there is brother. I want to show you something in the past"

Tyrion traced the rough grooves of the log with his fingers "Will it work with me? You tried with Ser Davos didn't you? I'm not a Northerner"

"You have no Northern blood" agreed Bran "but the old Gods favour you. That's why they guided Lyon to you"

"Why would the old Gods favour me?" snorted Tyrion

_'You're their champion'_ thought Bran. It was best to not tell Tyrion. He doubted himself enough and his scepticism of the Gods would make it even more impossible to believe. Sansa was Queen and her decisions would shape the North but Tyrion's role was perhaps more important.

Rather than burden Tyrion with the truth, Bran merely smiled "The old Gods have their reasons. I believe they'll let me give you this gift though, if you're willing?"

The three-eyed raven extended his hand and Tyrion didn't hesitate to grasp it. The last thing Bran saw of the Godswood was the shock sweeping across Tyrion's face as they flew.

* * *

When Tyrion took Bran's hand he honestly believed nothing would happen. He didn't doubt Bran's powers or that Sansa had seen the past - he just didn't believe he would. The Starks were connected to the first men. There'd always been rumours of their connections with direwolves and the old Gods. Tyrion was from the Westerlands - his only connection to the North was his banishment and marriage to Sansa.

There was no way to describe what it was like to fly. One minute he was sat with Bran in the chill of the Godswood and then the world tilted around him. The sensation was akin to falling in your sleep, except when you woke up you were somewhere else.

Tyrion blinked taking in his new surroundings. It didn't feel exactly like reality. The first thing he noticed was the lack of senses. There was no smell or feeling - just a lightness that reminded him this wasn't the present. He turned, noticing the tall young man stood beside him.

"Shall we?" asked Bran, a smirk pulling at his mouth

"You can walk?"

"Bran Stark will never walk again - but he can fly. When I fly I can walk - though it's not entirely the same" he said

Tyrion nodded, a thousand questions racing through his mind. This was surreal. Almost like a dream, except more solid.

"I should have known you'd be tall" said Tyrion, glancing up at Bran

The King's smile widened "The wheelchair hides it. Sansa will always seem taller than me"

"Don't remind me - I get a crick in my neck talking to her"

Tyrion turned his focus to where they were. Judging by the high walls and windows it appeared to be a castle. They were stood in a corridor with windows looking out across the sea. The sound of waves could be heard crashing against the-

No. It couldn't?

Tyrion whipped his head around, taking in the finer details. It appeared to be some time in the afternoon and the corridor was lined by unlit torches, the holders shaped like lions.

"Casterly Rock" he whispered, a mix of emotions swirling through him at the return to his childhood home

Bran nodded, his brown eyes solemn "We should move on"

He followed in a daze as Bran expertly led him through the castle. As they walked it became more obvious where they were. Lannister banners decorated the walls and red and gold could be seen everywhere in the decor. Tyrion memory whirred to life as he recognised the various doors and rooms he'd known so well in childhood.

They'd just gone up stairs and were heading down a corridor towards the family rooms when he heard a scream. Bran wasn't fazed, continuing onwards. As they drew closer the shouts grew louder, and the strangest dread stirred in Tyrion's chest.

"What's going on?" he asked

Bran smiled sadly, pausing outside a door that appeared to be the source of the commotion "Do you trust me?"

Whatever was the other side of the door, Tyrion suddenly wasn't sure he needed to know. Bran didn't wait for his answer, casing a final glance at him as he stepped through the closed door. Tyrion stared at the door. Several voices could be heard along with a lot of groaning. If he didn't follow Bran he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

Tyrion drew in a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever awaited him. Copying what Bran had done, he walked up to the door and straight through it.

The three-eyed raven stood near a bed in the middle of the room. His eyes brightened seeing Tyrion had followed and he gestured for him to come closer. Tyrion's body moved almost without thought as his mind struggled to put the pieces together. A Maester was hurrying around the room with blood soaked rags, barking orders to several servants. The room was a hive of activity.

It was only as he drew nearer to Bran he noticed the man sat in a chair on the other side of the bed.

Tywin Lannister's face was tight with pain as he gazed at the woman lying there. Somehow Tyrion pulled his eyes from his father to the woman in the bed. At first glance she looked like Cersei; long golden hair and sharp green eyes set in an oval face.

Tyrion choked out a sob as the realisation hit him.

"Mother?"

No-one heard him, apart from Bran. This was the past and it was rapidly dawning on Tyrion what part of the past this was.

"No..." he mumbled, stepping back from the bed "Bran...please no"

Sansa's warnings echoed in his mind as he glanced at Bran. Why show him this? Show him how he killed his mother.

"Tyrion, you need to see" called Bran

"No I don't" he mumbled "Why would you show me this? I thought...I thought we were friends"

"We're not friends" said Bran, distant eyes staring into him "We're brothers now"

Tyrion had stepped back from the bed but he remained rooted to the spot, unable to flee the scene. In desperation he turned his focus to the rest of the room. It was just after the birth he realised.

"Don't you trust me?" Bran had moved closer to him, his face twisted in a frown "It's not what you think Tyrion – I promise. This isn't to hurt you"

Having assumed this wouldn't work in the first place, Tyrion hadn't given much thought to what Bran actually wanted to show him. Tyrion studied the three-eyed raven. He'd told Sansa not an hour ago that Bran had no malicious intentions towards them. Surely there was a reason to show him this?

He'd committed to doing this – he had to see it through. Slowly Tyrion stepped back towards the bed, Bran standing beside him. It occurred to him this was the only time he'd get to see his mother.

"Tywin" she groaned. The birthing bed was soaked in blood, the Maester working hard to stop the bleeding.

"You _will_ survive" said Tywin, his face twisted with more emotion that Tyrion had ever seen

"No, I won't"

The lord of Casterly Rock grasped her shoulders "We are lions – we survive"

"Where's the child?" she asked, panting for breath "I want to see the child"

Tywin's face contorted into the anger Tyrion knew so well "The child's a monster – it killed you"

"It's our child" she said sharply, turning to the Maester "What is it?"

The Maester was covered in blood as he met her gaze "A boy, my lady"

"Bring him to me" she said, a shudder going through her as her strength faded

"No" snapped Tywin "The creature's stunted, it won't survive"

Joanna Lannister was deathly pale, but her glare was unflinching as she turned to her husband "I want... to see my son"

Tyrion's heart constricted at her request. He'd always wondered if his mother had seen him; if she looked upon her killers face before dying.

Tywin screwed his eyes shut, his hand curling into a fist as he turned to the servants "Bring the child. Now!"

"Your father had you removed from the room as soon as you were born" said Bran "when they realised something was wrong"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His father was arguing with the Maester.

"Lord Tywin, there's nothing more to be done" pleaded the Maester, a middle aged man with light brown hair

"Find a way to save her" roared his father "or I'll find a Maester who will!"

Tyrion turned his focus to his mother. Her strength was fading quickly as she lay against the pillows, her eyes moving between Tywin and the door - awaiting the creature that stole her life.

A few moments passed before the door flew open and soft cries could be heard from a small bundle as the servant rushed the baby into the room.

"Tywin help me" said Joanna, trying to straighten up

Reluctantly his father accepted the baby, passing him over to his wife. Seeing himself as a baby was the strangest thing he'd ever experienced. Tyrion knew it was him, but at the same time he felt no particular connection to his infant self. The baby had a light covering of golden hair as he cried beneath the blankets. Tyrion quickly moved his attention from himself to his mother, his stomach churning in anticipation. This was it. Now he would see first-hand how disappointed his mother was that her life was cut short for something like him.

Joanna tugged the blankets away to see the rest of the baby, and Tyrion braced himself. Sadness passed through her eyes for a moment, before a smile tugged at her mouth.

"Hello" she said softly, lifting her shaking hand to brush his cheek

"It's a monster" said Tywin, his voice heavy with contempt

"He's our son"

As cruel as his father was to him, Tyrion felt a slither of sympathy with him in that moment. All his life his father had been cold and intimidating, yet this Tywin Lannister was distraught – no matter how he tried to hide it. Whatever else he was, he'd loved his wife. Tywin's face morphed from anger to grief and back to anger as he watched his wife holding the baby that would take her life.

"This won't do" he muttered, pushing out of his chair and going to argue with the Maester again.

Bran stepped back as well, patting Tyrion on the shoulder before retreating to the other side of the room until only he and his mother remained.

"Hush little lion" she said, cuddling him against her. Despite her obvious pain she had nothing but smiles for the baby "I'm afraid we won't have long together"

Tears burned at Tyrion's eyes as he witnessed the scene.

Joanna cast a pitying glance at her husband before returning her dwindling focus to the baby "I fear your father will take this poorly; you'll have to be brave. A woman's fight is in the birthing bed and I won – I have another son"

Tywin returned to the bedside, his face tight "You won't survive"

"I know love" she said "It's a risk every woman takes"

"The creature won't live"

At that Joanna raised her weary gaze to her husband, her green eyes sharpening "Yes he will...he's a Lannister"

"He's a dwarf; he killed you" choked out Tywin

"He's our son" said Joanna, sinking weakly into the bed "promise me Tywin. You won't harm him"

His father's face hardened at the request, before he slumped into the chair "The boy will live. I promise"

Joanna nodded; satisfied with his word she turned back to the baby "Be brave. You're a lion of Casterly Rock; you're my son"

"A name" said Tywin, his eyes filling with grief as his wife faded away "You choose"

"Tyrion" she said immediately, pressing a kiss to the baby's head "Tyrion Lannister"

Tywin nodded, his face grim "Maester, take the boy to the nursery"

The woman's eyes were full of regret as she cuddled the baby for the last time "Goodbye Tyrion. I love you"

The Maester reached down to take the baby from her, and Tyrion found himself reaching out to touch his mother. His hand found her limp one lying on the blood stained blankets, but passed right through. He choked back a sob, recalling Sansa's tale of seeing the past and being unable to interact with it.

When Bran reappeared at his side, it was increasingly obvious Joanna Lannister was about to pass. The servants had followed the Maester out of the room leaving just Tywin and his wife. His father's usually condemning eyes were heavy with grief as he clutched Joanna's hand. Tyrion was dimly aware his mother was asking her husband to give her love to the twins but he couldn't focus on it – his mind replaying back what he'd just seen.

"Let's go" said Bran, grasping his shoulder.

The world twisted around Tyrion but he hardly cared. All he could see was his mother's smile and hear her soft words in his ear.

* * *

Sansa paced around the room, half-heartedly shuffling papers and tidying as she awaited Tyrion. No matter how much she told herself Tyrion would be fine, her worry had only grown over the time he'd been gone. She'd continued working on the map for a while and debated seeing Arya. By all accounts her younger sister wasn't happy with Bran and that wasn't likely to improve if she knew he was trying to show Tyrion something in the Godswood.

The Queen had just settled onto the chaise to do some needlework when the door flew open and hurried footsteps raced over to her.

"Sansa!"

Her heart leapt at her husband's voice as he came to stand before her. Tears glistened in his eyes, but the widest smile covered his face leaving her thoroughly confused.

"Tyrion - are you ok?" she asked, taking his hand and tugging him towards her. His clothes seemed a little damp from the Godswood and his hand was cold in hers, but other than the tears on his face he seemed well.

"I'm fine" he said, practically bouncing on the spot "It worked Sansa - I saw the past"

"Really?" she asked, forcing a smile. Gods what had Bran shown him? Despite his red rimmed eyes he seemed excited enough. Sansa tugged his hand, guiding him onto the chaise beside her "You're a little cold, come sit by the hearth my love"

He dropped next to her and Sansa quickly wound her arm around him, pulling him in to kiss his forehead "How did it go?"

Sansa didn't want to push Tyrion to share whatever he'd experienced if he wasn't ready, but to her joy he eagerly launched into the story. The smile didn't drop from his face throughout, and Sansa listened with rapt attention.

Her stomach dropped when she found out what he'd seen, and the urge to throttle Bran reared up inside her - tempered only by how Tyrion seemed to be happy. Despite her husband's excitement, there was no way Bran could have known he'd react like this; being brought to see his mother's death when giving birth to him could have gone disastrously wrong.

"My mother loved me Sansa" said Tyrion, his green eyes bright with amazement

"How could she not?" she said, smiling sadly at him

"She didn't blame me for what happened at all – or what I am"

"It was never your fault my love"

"She said a woman's fight is in the birthing bed"

"My mother used to say the same"

"I never knew she saw me" he said "or that she chose my name"

Tyrion fell quiet, his brow furrowing as if lost in thought. Sansa studied his face, searching for any sigh of distress and, thankfully, finding none. She relaxed a little more, relishing her husband's warmth as he sat against her on the chaise.

To her the idea of reliving a family member's death was horrifying - watching her father lose his head already haunted her. She could see how it was different for Tyrion though. All his life he'd been blamed for his mother's death and told very little about the woman; from what Tyrion said he'd never known his mother saw or held him. On the surface Bran showing that moment to Tyrion seemed cruel, but from Tyrion's perspective it had likely given him relief. It showed his family's words for the lies they always were.

It was several minutes until Tyrion stirred to life, turning on the chaise to look at her "Sansa, I've been meaning to speak to you about last night"

"Of course" she said, nodding her head

Tyrion began fiddling with his sleeves "I know I've been somewhat distant today, but I just wasn't sure what to say"

"We can talk about anything" she assured him

He still looked undecided and nervousness wound its way through Sansa. Had he not been ready to go that far? Tyrion had seemed fine last night and while he'd clearly been distracted all morning he hadn't seemed upset.

"Sweetheart, what I said still stands and it always will; only if you want to. If you never want to join in bed again we never will"

"Oh, no!" said Tyrion quickly "That's not at all what I was thinking. I very much enjoyed last night - and I hope you did too?"

"It was wonderful"

"Good" said Tyrion offering her a smile. He drew in a deep breath, as if steeling himself to voice his thoughts. He reached for her hand, enclosing it in his own as his green eyes met hers "I regret nothing about last night Sansa. The only thing that…worries me… is how it ended"

He trailed off looking awkwardly at her, as if hoping she would pick up his meaning. Unfortunately Sansa had no idea - to her everything had been perfect. They'd spent the night in each other's arms and Tyrion had seemed perfectly happy to do so.

Tyrion sighed at her puzzled expression, lowering his gaze "Sansa…I finished inside you"

"Oh" she said, understanding flooding her "I know"

"There's a chance I got you with child" he explained; as if she truly had no idea how babies were made

Sansa laughed lightly "I'll confess to not knowing much of what goes on in the marriage bed my love, but I do know that"

Tyrion blushed furiously "Right, of course. It's just…"

"Do you not want a baby?" she asked, softening her tone

"It's not that"

"What's troubling you so?"

"It's…if you carry my child there's a chance you could die" he said, squeezing her hand "I was selfish - I put you in danger"

A rush of love spread through Sansa for the man sat before her. Tyrion's eyes were full of concern for her - as if he'd possibly given her a disease rather than the chance to have a child. There were very few men who would care this much if their wife lived or died as long as they produced an heir.

"Tyrion, there's always a risk in child birth. I don't think your condition has anything to do with it" she said gently

"I don't want to lose you" he said, biting his lip "I wouldn't survive that"

"You know I'd like children" she said "but whether we have any or not is up to you. I'm perfectly happy either way"

That wasn't entirely true. Sansa did want children and the thought of never having any caused a hollow ache in her chest - but she had no desire to guilt Tyrion into it either. If he didn't want children she would understand. On the other hand, Tyrion had spilled his seed last night knowing the possibilities. Perhaps he wasn't as opposed as she thought.

"Would you like children?" she asked

Tyrion considered for a moment, before nodding his head.

"I do" he confessed - as though he were guilty of a great crime "I think…I'd like to be a father"

Sansa's heart leapt, though she was careful to contain her excitement. Tyrion's eyes were still conflicted. Seeing his mother's reaction to his birth had given him pause to re-examine all the false beliefs he'd clung to for years. It would take time for Tyrion to sort through all that.

"You'd be a great father, and I'd be very proud to give you children" she said, brushing her hand against his cheek

"They could be like me" he warned

"Why would that matter to me? I love you very much exactly as you are and I happen to know you were an utterly adorable child"

A smile pulled at Tyrion's mouth "I'll take your word on that"

"As you should; I am the Queen"

As much as Sansa had always wanted children and was thrilled to know Tyrion was open to the idea, there was a single dark voice that lurked in the depths of her mind. She should tell her husband; he was being honest with her and he deserved to know the truth.

"You should know Tyrion; all the times Ramsay raped me I never got pregnant" she said swallowing thickly "I was relieved of course, but it did make me wonder…"

Tyrion's face darkened at the mention of Ramsay, but he squeezed her hand gently "I understand Sansa"

She breathed out, grateful he didn't ask for any further details. The fear she may be barren often drifted through her mind, souring any future dreams of children.

"There's no rush to decide anything" she said

"Of course not" he promised

Tyrion's easy understanding of her worries lightened her mood. She still had many years ahead of her for children. There was no need to focus on her fear of being barren now.

"After last night, I just wanted to make sure you were alright with what I did" said Tyrion

"You're my husband" she said, dropping her voice "You're welcome to…leave a present anytime"

Tyrion laughed, sitting back on the chaise and cuddling into her "Sweet Sansa - I fear you need educating on appropriate euphemisms"

"That was better than this morning" she defended, a blush rising to her cheeks

"Nothing was as bad as that" he agreed "Even Lyon looked ashamed"

"I dare him to come up with anything better"

"Best not to encourage him dear, it would be rather embarrassing if he did"

Sansa cuddled closer to Tyrion, dropping her head on his shoulder "So will the lion be hunting again soon?"

"Oh, gods…"

"Come into my castle?"

"I might return to celibacy until you can think of something better"

"Putting your sword in its place?" she tried "I can't give up now, you've raised the stakes"

"Are you saying you desire me Sansa Stark?" he teased

"It's your fault for being so very wonderful"

Tyrion turned his head, kissing her cheek "Rest assured wife; the lion is eager to retake his castle"

* * *

Dinner was a grander affair than usual as it was the last night before lord Cerwyn and lady Tallhart left. The Queen had led a toast thanking them for their staunch support during this time and wishing them safe travels.

The talk was the usual mix of pleasantries and business, though Tyrion noticed Pod was somewhat quieter than usual. When the young Knight had come to bring him to Bran that afternoon Tyrion hadn't missed his unusual mood.

"Strange of Bran to send you on such an errand" he'd commented as they made their way through the castle

"He has little use for my sword" admitted Pod "he says anyone can guard him"

"You're his sworn shield - an anointed knight" pointed out Tyrion "far superior to any guards"

"That's kind of you m'lord"

"Tyrion" he'd corrected "Have you asked about joining the Kingsguard again? Surely if anyone can guard Bran he's no reason to deny you"

Pod had shifted uncomfortably "I don't think I want to anymore"

The young man hadn't said much more and Tyrion hadn't pushed. It had struck him as odd how Pod seemed to do less and less for Bran. Sending him to bring him a message was the work of a squire not a Knight - surely Bran knew that.

Tyrion turned his focus to the three-eyed raven, currently making polite conversation with lady Tallhart.

Bran's gift had meant a lot to him.

He'd always wondered what his mother had thought of him, or if she'd even seen him. His father and sister had only ever described how he killed her - ripping her apart. In reality it hadn't been quite like that. The birth had killed her; there was no doubt of that - but his baby form wasn't so monstrous. He'd been a small baby, his limbs short in comparison to the rest of him. Rationally Tyrion had always known it wasn't his fault or choice that his mother had died, but years of hearing how he tore Joanna Lannister open had left him with an image of a monstrous baby clawing its way out of the innocent woman. The reality had been tragic enough; but it was an accident with no-one to blame.

A warm tingle spread through his chest recalling the way his mother had smiled at her baby - at him. She'd seemed sadden at his condition, but there was no angry denial or disgust. She'd accepted it quickly, claiming him as her son.

_'You're no son of mine'_

_'You're my son'_

The conflicting voices of his father and mother rang through his mind. In his final moments his father had disowned him. In her final moments his mother had claimed him. When Tyrion realised what moment of time he'd been brought to he'd thought Bran cruel, but when they returned to the Godswood he couldn't have been more grateful. Somehow seeing his mother's acceptance had healed a tiny piece of his soul that had died with her. He didn't know what she'd think him of now or the choices he'd made; but he would be better. Since coming North, Tyrion had tried to do better.

It was when they returned to the present the enormity of what had happened hit Tyrion. He'd thanked Bran as sincerely as he could and for once the three-eyed raven hadn't seemed so distant; a genuine smile crossing his face at Tyrion's gratitude. He'd spoken to Bran for a few minutes but it was Sansa he was eager to tell. He'd raced back to their chambers as quickly as possible to tell his wife all that had happened.

Tyrion turned his head, glancing up at his wife's regal face as she sat beside him. The Queen was discussing various issues with Ser Davos much to the older knight's apparent relief. From what Tyrion had seen of Bran's small council no-one else discussed much business – particularly following Bronn's disappearance.

If anything seeing his mother had given him the push to tell Sansa the concerns that had clung to him all day. When they joined in the bed last night Sansa had told him it was up to him how he finished. He'd intended to pull out, but for a moment he believed he could have it all. A home, a family that cared about him, a wife that loved him – and a child of his own.

In the moment he'd believed it was possible. How could he not? Sansa's blue eyes had looked at him with such tenderness as she said 'I love you' – it had overridden his fears until he finished inside her. It was only in the light of morning he realised what he'd done. That he'd possibly given his beautiful, caring wife who had her arms wrapped around him so sweetly a death sentence. The guilt had eaten him alive all day.

It was only in seeing his mother and father at his birth that put things in perspective. He knew Sansa wanted children, despite her claims to be fine either way. She was a grown woman and she fully understood the risks of child birth. As a highborn lady she would have been prepared for marriage and children from a young age. The problem wasn't that Sansa didn't want a child, or that she was opposed to the possibility it could be a dwarf – the problem was him. It was his own selfish desire to not risk losing Sansa; and it wasn't fair to her.

"Are you alright?"

He turned to Sansa's concerned eyes watching him and smiled up at her "I'm fine"

Realising she'd caught his mind wandering again he quickly returned his attention to his half-eaten dinner, though his mind stayed firmly on Sansa. Tyrion's blood boiled recalling her quietly spoken words of how the Bolton bastard raped her repeatedly without producing a child. While he was glad for Sansa's sake she didn't have her abusers child it had clearly planted the idea in her mind she may not be able to get pregnant. Tyrion certainly wasn't going to ask for details on how often she'd been raped, but it was evidently enough for Sansa to doubt her ability to reproduce. Tyrion had no bastards to speak of either. He knew whores drank moon tea to prevent such occurrences but it hadn't stopped King Robert producing children with them. As far as he knew Tyrion had never fathered a child – perhaps he couldn't.

A pang of sadness went through him at the thought; finally ending his inner conflict. Both he and Sansa were open to the idea of children – there was no real reason not to other than his own fears. It was also likely one or both of them couldn't produce children, given their past experience. Tyrion relaxed somewhat. It was pointless to worry over something that may never happen or could take many months if it did. There was no rush anyway – he and Sansa had all the time in the world to figure it out.

"Lord Tyrion?"

He jerked his gaze from his plate, berating himself for losing focus again "Sorry I missed that"

It was Ser Davos who'd spoken "I wondered if you knew much of Merlon Crakehall?"

"Sounds familiar" he said "Isn't he Desmond Crakehall's youngest son?"

"Aye, but he's the last of his house now"

"Unfortunate. The Crakehalls were loyal bannermen to my father"

"He won't do" cut in Bran, emotionless eyes turning to Ser Davos

The Kings hand slumped in his seat, defeat written across his face.

Brienne twiddled with her fork "We're having trouble filling empty seats"

"So are we" said Sansa "years of war has killed the more experienced lords"

Tyrion listened raptly, quickly catching up on the conversation. They were discussing empty seats – and that included Casterly Rock. Yes, that would make sense. Most of the lords and houses in the Westerlands would have been decimated in Kings Landing. Guilt and loss stirred in his stomach. Despite his miserable childhood part of him was still somewhat attached to the Rock. It was right he'd lost it though. After supporting the dragon Queen who slaughtered the Lannister forces it wouldn't be right to hold his family's titles.

Ser Davos and Sansa were discussing the Reach when Bran's voice drew the table's attention.

"Tyrion, what do you think?"

"With the loss of the Tyrell's the Florents are likely to want…" he started

"No, I mean Casterly Rock"

All the eyes of the table found him as he shrank into his seat "I'm hardly the best placed to advice you"

"Of course you are. You know the Westerlands better than anyone else here" said Bran, his brown eyes studying him "If you were my hand who would you choose?"

Arya rose up beside him, her glare icy "Is it really appropriate to ask Tyrion?"

"It's alright Arya" said Tyrion, before she could start another argument with her brother "I don't mind. Winterfell is my home now"

Sansa's hand found his beneath the table and the feel of her slender fingers gripping his gave him the push he needed to answer Bran's question.

"Do you mind Ser Davos?" he asked

"Not at all" said the older man, holding his hands up "I'm right out of ideas"

"Very well" said Tyrion "The best choice would be someone from the Westerlands"

"Agreed" said Bran

Tyrion turned his mind over all he'd heard of the current state of the Westerlands. No wonder Ser Davos was struggling – many houses were on the verge of extinction.

"What are you looking for exactly?" asked Tyrion "I've no doubt Ser Davos has made many sensible suggestions, yet you've turned them down"

"They've all lacked something" he replied "The lord of Casterly Rock will be the warden of the west and need to manage whatever gold is left in the region. To do that they need experience, and inspire respect"

Tyrion nodded, running through all the possibilities. It was a difficult task, but Bran was right. After the damage his family had done in the Westerlands the people were in need of a likeable lord without any skeletons in his past. Tywin's respect was won through fear and Cersei had commanded with fear – that wouldn't do anymore.

"Forgive me Bran, but I do believe the answer has been right in front of you"

"You mean to accept my offer?"

"Certainly not" said Tyrion "You want someone from the Westerlands with experience of battle and some experience of ruling. You want someone the people will respect. Look no further than Ser Podrick Payne"

All eyes turned to the Kings sworn shield. The young man's mouth had fallen open in shock, his eyes widening "No, I couldn't possibly..."

"Why not?" asked Tyrion

"It's your home"

"Not anymore" he said gently, feeling Sansa's hand squeezing his "You are from the Westerlands. You squired for me when I was the Kings Hand and assisted me with running the Kingdom. You fought at the battle of Blackwater and in the Long Night. You're an anointed Knight, you've served as the Kings sworn shield – and you're a damned good man Pod"

Podrick's face burned bright red at the list of his accomplishments, even as he opened his mouth to deny it.

"Done" said Bran

"Your Grace…" stammered Pod, turning to his King

Bran turned to him a smile on his face "I refused to let you join the Kingsguard because somehow it didn't seem right. This seems right. Do you accept?"

The rest of the table held their collective breath as they awaited the reply, but it was Tyrion that Pod turned to. He smiled at his former squire, giving him an encouraging nod.

When Podrick turned back to face the King, his eyes were burning with determination "I accept your Grace"

* * *

After Pod became the lord of Casterly Rock the atmosphere at the high table turned celebratory. Arya didn't know much about house Payne but from what she could gather they were a minor house in the Westerlands and Pod was the last of his house. The only relative she knew of had been Ilyn Payne, but the Kings Justice was long dead and by all accounts Podrick was from a minor branch of house Payne and had little to do with his extended family.

When Tyrion had suggested Pod she didn't think anyone could quite believe it, but when he explained why it did make sense. Following dinner they'd gone their separate ways and Pod had been whisked away by Brienne and Bran; presumably to discuss his lordship. Sansa and Tyrion had disappeared with Cley and lady Tallhart as well to finalise the plans for tomorrow.

Arya was on her way up to her chambers when she noticed the door ajar on one of the meeting rooms - the hearth burning in the corner. Moving on silent feet she peered in the room to see Ser Davos pouring over piles of letters and notes. The onion Knight was rubbing tiredly at his eyes and Arya was reminded sharply of Sansa - her sister had spent the first few months of her reign doing nothing but work. Fortunately Sansa had corrected the behaviour by taking regular breaks, and Tyrion was always on hand to pull her away from work when it overcame her.

With nothing better to do Arya decided she might as well see what was keeping him busy.

"Does Bran not let you sleep?" she called, pushing her way into the room

"I'd say he actively encourages it - but there's just too much to do"

Arya nodded, sliding into the seat opposite him "Thought you'd be briefing the new lord of the Rock"

"Brief him? Do you know where house Seaworth is my lady?"

"Stormlands"

"Aye. When Stannis knighted ne he gave me some lands; I have a small keep by the sea. In no way at all is that comparable to being lord of Casterly Rock and warden of the West"

"You're the Kings Hand" she said, a smile tugging at her mouth "I'm sure you have some advice for lord Podrick"

"I'd tell him to be wary of wine but the lad's got a better tolerance for it than I"

"As he should; Pod said Tyrion educated him on such things"

Ser Davos nodded "Its lord Tyrion's advice he'll be wanting. If I was Podrick I'd be begging him for help"

Arya suspected Davos was right. After dinner Pod had clearly wanted to speak to Tyrion, but he'd been swept away by Bran and Brienne to discuss his change in position. Undoubtedly Pod would seek out Tyrion tomorrow. It was no secret how fond the young Knight was of his former lord, and having Tyrion suggest he become the lord of his ancestral lands was likely as touching as it was daunting.

"Look on the bright side, it's one less seat to fill" she said

"True. If lord Tyrion could fill the rest I'd much appreciate it" said Ser Davos, leaning back in his chair "I was never meant for this"

"You're the only one for it"

"Lord Tyrion would be a better hand"

"Sansa claimed him for the North. If you try and smuggle him back with you I guarantee Sansa will go to war"

Ser Davos laughed "Best not anger your sister"

Arya traced her fingers over the cracks in the table. Being Bran's hand couldn't be easy. He'd been in Winterfell less than two weeks and already she was growing tired of his vague words laced with double meaning. Attempting to decipher that and turn it into royal decrees and policy was a job for someone with deep reserves of patience, and Arya knew there were few who would match Ser Davos in that.

"Do you go to the Stormlands much?" she asked "To visit your keep?"

"I've only been back once" he admitted "my wife passed some time during the war. I didn't know until the dust settled"

Sympathy swept through Arya "I'm sorry"

He nodded "It was natural causes. I was used to being gone for long periods and she was used to me coming home sooner or later. I wasn't a good husband or father"

"I'm sure that's not true. You were Jon's most trusted advisor; you're a friend of house Stark"

A sad smile pulled at his mouth "You're too kind my lady. I went back to see where my wife had been buried and have stayed in Kings Landing ever since. No point visiting an empty keep"

"Did you write to her?"

"A little girl taught me to read and write. I sent Marya a few letters when I was practicing, but she was used to not hearing from me. She always thought it was comforting. If you hear word of a smuggler it means they haven't done a good job"

"True" she agreed. Arya had no idea Ser Davos had lost his wife though it did explain why he'd thrown himself into work – a welcome distraction from his loss. As insightful as the knowledge was, Arya was keen to not linger on it. She hadn't come in here to dredge up sad memories for the man "Was it hard learning to read and write?"

His mouth quirked up "Learning to read was the hardest part, and being Kings hand has given me plenty of opportunity to work on my writing"

"It's a skill some people take for granted"

"Indeed it is m'lady" he said "Lord Gendry's been practicing hard at it in Storms End. I like getting his letters – seeing the improvement reminds me of when my son learned. He was the first in our family to learn those things..."

Arya nodded along as Ser Davos reminisced, though her mind wandered to the stack of badly written letters hidden in her room. Gendry's first letter had been near illegible but it had asked if she minded him writing the odd note to her for practice as she wouldn't laugh at him like his bannermen would. She bit back a smile thinking of the notes. Most were short and usually included his astonishment at discovering some other part of lordship or castle life. His last one had included a rant about some minor lord begging to see him over an urgent issue that turned out to be a pet cat that was run over by a horse – the man had requested justice for his cat.

"Any ideas when you'll be setting sail?" asked Ser Davos

"Not sure" she admitted "There's still planning to be done and I don't want to leave Winterfell until Robin and Gawan are caught"

As keen as she was to discover what was west of Westeros, there was no way she would leave her family with a threat hanging over them. After so many years of moving from place to place Arya had never expected to feel settled anywhere again, but the longer she stayed at Winterfell the more she fell into comfort. Reminiscing with Sansa on their family, teaching Tyrion to throw knives, games of cyvasse and just being part of a pack again - it would be difficult to leave behind.

* * *

Brushing out her long red hair Sansa's eyes wandered to her husband's reflection in the mirror sat before her. Shifting slightly on her stool she got a better view of Tyrion as he sat in their bed; a heavy book spread across his lap.

The lordship of Casterly Rock had been decided and the lions would rule there no more. Despite Bran again offering it to Tyrion, her husband had rejected it for the final time - suggesting Podrick Payne become its lord.

Sansa drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes against the guilt that stirred in her heart.

No matter how many times Tyrion assured her of his forgiveness; that he was happy here - it would never quite overcome her remorse for taking so much away from him. It was her selfish desires that had caused so much misery to those around her. She'd thought herself so clever in all her planning. She thought she'd gone from being a victim to a survivor; but instead she'd turned into a monster.

So much time she'd spent appeasing the lords and ladies who named her Queen, only for two lords to betray her and two major houses to stay silent while she picked up the pieces.

Sansa opened her eyes, forcing herself to examine her reflection more closely than usual. When Tyrion had been brought back from the Wolfswood Sansa had seen the horrible truth of what she'd become. The mask she'd worn for so long hadn't been that of a proud, fair Queen - it had been Cersei Lannister. Looking in the mirror that day she'd seen the dead Queen staring back at her and not Sansa Stark.

Now as she looked, her heart settled somewhat. She saw her long red hair, Tully blue eyes and the sprinkle of freckles across her pale face. It wasn't the ruthless mask of an unbreakable Queen but it was real - it was her. Her eyes wandered again to Tyrion's reflection as he sat with his head buried in a book, perfectly relaxed in their chambers. A smile tugged at her mouth as she watched him. The Queen of ice wouldn't have the privilege of that view; and Sansa wouldn't change it for anything.

"You're watching me"

"How could you possibly know that?" she asked, continuing to watch his reflection

"I can sense it" he said, his eyes never leaving his book "You're like a wolf stalking your prey"

"Oh really?"

"Most certainly. My survival instincts will spring to life any second"

Sansa turned on her stool to face Tyrion, amusement on her face. Her husband had yet to lift his gaze from his book and hadn't moved a muscle as they spoke.

"What survival instincts would those be?"

"Fight or flight as with any prey" he said "Though flight is hardly an option; a quick hobble is the best I can do and your long legs would easily catch up to me"

"That leaves you with fight"

"A lame lion against a fierce wolf? I'm doomed either way"

"So you've accepted your fate?"

Tyrion shrugged, finally lifting his bright green eyes to her "There's simply no other choice. The best I can do now is show my belly and pray for mercy. As one does when faced with a wolf"

A smile stretched across Sansa's face, as she rose slowly from the stool "Do you think I'll have mercy?"

"Hard to say"

Sansa climbed onto the bed, lying on her stomach facing her husband as he discarded his book on the nightstand. She ran her finger over his hand, drawing slow circles "I could be merciful"

"Perhaps"

"I hear lions are clever. What's to say my prey doesn't escape?"

"What's to say he wants to?"

Sansa's heart soared as Tyrion's eyes sparked with mischief. He scooted closer to her, lying on his back and arranging his face into a pout.

"I'm at your mercy wolf Queen" he said, struggling to not smile "Be gentle; I am but a little lion"

"Hmm, what to do with you…" she mused, nuzzling her face by his ear before pressing several kisses down the side of his neck

Tyrion laughed as she continued kissing him, his arms coming up to wind around her waist "Ha, you fell for my trap!"

Sansa squealed in delight as Tyrion tugged her on top of him, his mouth kissing gently up and down her neck.

"You tricked me" she laughed

"You shouldn't trust a lion" he said, growling playfully in her ear

Heat rushed through Sansa as they kissed at each other; laughing and teasing. Without a doubt, Sansa knew there was no-one she trusted more. Whatever manipulation and lies had started their relationship were in the past and couldn't be changed. It was the present that mattered, and despite her mistakes Tyrion had chosen her.

Seeing the happiness in his eyes as they continued their playful banter the guilt eased in Sansa. This was all she wanted - a loving husband and a home filled with the joy she'd known in childhood.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

After her own experience of seeing through the eyes of the three-eyed raven, Sansa had been horrified at the prospect of Tyrion attempting the same. Even when her husband returned to her, a smile on his face as he described seeing his mother – Sansa had still thought Bran careless. It could have so easily hurt Tyrion rather than help him.

Now the Queen was willing to re-evaluate her opinion.

The knowledge that his mother had seen and loved him appeared to have healed something inside him. While Sansa wouldn't say it had changed him as such, Tyrion did seem more comfortable in his own identity.

"You're staring at me again"

The words pulled her from her musings to the smirk on Tyrion's face as he sat across from her.

"Perhaps I am" she said

"Anyone would think you desired me"

"Maybe I do" she said evenly "your bed hair is rather captivating"

Tyrion ran his hand through his messy curls, making it worse "For your eyes only wife"

A girlish giggle escaped Sansa at his teasing, and Tyrion's smile widened at the sound. She returned her attention to her forgotten breakfast, trying not to get distracted by her husband. Last night their playful banter had led them to joining in the bed again, and for Sansa it was every bit as magical as the night before. This time there'd been less hesitation in getting undressed for each other and she'd loved spending the night with Tyrion in her arms.

"So, how long do you think Pod will last?" she asked, between mouthfuls of food

"Quite a while according to whispering whores"

Sansa rolled her eyes "Before he begs you for help"

Tyrion snorted "Why would he do that?"

"At your suggestion he just became one of the most powerful lords in Westeros"

"Bran made the decision"

"Not really – he just agreed with you"

"Pod doesn't need help" said Tyrion dismissively "not least from me. Unless he wants a list of all my mistakes so he can avoid making them"

"You're a great lord and Pod respects you more than anyone" she said gently "don't be surprised if he asks for your advice"

Sansa continued eating, watching Tyrion's forehead crease as he considered her words. In all honesty Sansa was surprised Podrick wasn't knocking on their door.

"I wouldn't know what to tell him" said Tyrion, shaking his head

"You know he'll soak up any advice you give him" she said "You've got experience that he doesn't. If Pod asks you, think about what you'd tell your younger self"

Tyrion nodded thoughtfully, sinking back in his seat "You're quite wise Sansa Stark"

"I am" she agreed "and it often goes unnoticed"

"Modest too"

"It's my Stark blood"

With breakfast finished they went about getting ready for the day. While being undressed in front of each other hadn't been an issue in the bed, in the light of day both preferred some privacy. Sansa was just selecting her gown when she noticed Tyrion rummaging through his draws for a tunic. Usually he would grab whatever was on top unless she left something out for him, but today he seemed set on finding something. The Queen watched him from the corner of her eye, a smile tugging at her mouth as he pulled out a tunic embroidered with lions.

When Tyrion had been missing in the Wolfswood she'd gone through his clothes adding lions to some of the otherwise plain clothing, but Tyrion very rarely used them – as though to distance himself from his Lannister identity. The past few weeks Sansa had encouraged him to wear his sigil more often; choosing tunics for him and telling him how handsome he looked.

Today Tyrion had chosen one himself and Sansa suspected the reason had a lot to do with seeing his mother yesterday. From what he'd told her Joanna Lannister had accepted him easily as her son; affirming his place as a Lannister. Her acceptance was in direct contrast to how his father and sister had treated him and seemed to have given her husband a little more pride in his identity. Sansa smiled to herself, watching him disappear behind his screen before moving behind her own. She'd make certain to tell him how nice he looked when he was dressed.

By the time Sansa had dressed in a deep navy gown with grey trim and emerged from her own screen, Tyrion was still behind his. Her brow furrowed - he was nearly always ready before her. Making her way across the room, Sansa stopped a short distance from where her husband was changing.

"Tyrion, are you alright?"

Faint shuffling sounded from behind the screen, followed by a small voice "I'm fine"

"Do you need any help?"

When he didn't answer a knot of worry curled through Sansa's stomach. He'd seemed fine before he went to get dressed, what could have changed? Various possibilities drifted through Sansa's mind, from his hand cramping again to a bad memory creeping up on him – there was only one way to find out.

"Tyrion, please come out. Let me help you" she said, remaining in her position a few steps away from the screen.

It was tempting to just go around the flimsy barrier and see her husband, but Sansa forced herself to stay still. As much as she loved it when Tyrion was teasing and playful she was very aware it hid a lot of self-consciousness. The Tyrion she'd eaten breakfast with and the one hiding behind the screen needed completely different things from her.

"Promise you won't laugh?" he said, his voice heavy

"I promise" she said immediately "I'll never mock you Tyrion"

Sansa was well and truly puzzled at his words, but much to her relief he shuffled out from behind the screen. He was dressed in his breeches and under shift, but the tunic he'd picked out was only half-fastened, stopping just below his chest.

Tyrion's head hung low as he stood awkwardly before her "I guess your campaign to fatten me up has worked"

It took Sansa a long moment to realise what the problem was, and when she did it was only her promise to Tyrion that kept the laugh from escaping her mouth. The tunic was too small for him; the clasps not reaching across his chest and shoulders. As amusing as she found it, the insecurity in Tyrion's eyes warned her to approach this gently.

"Let me have a look" she said, kneeling down to examine the clothing

Tyrion kept his face turned away from her as she checked the size of the sleeves and the clasps. As she inspected it her forehead creased in confusion. It was strange how this one didn't fit and his others did.

"Suppose I should warn Esther all my clothes will need letting out to accommodate my newfound plumpness" he said, eyes downcast

The Queen dropped her hands to his shoulders, gently working her way down his arms and feeling what she could through the clothes he wore.

"What are you doing?" he asked, tensing beneath her

"Inspecting this fat of which you speak"

Tyrion didn't protest her wandering hands and she took her time exploring, moving across his chest and ribs. Sansa opened the bottom clasps of the tunic so it hung open over his shift, before moving her hands to cup her husband's face.

"You're not getting plump my love, its muscle"

Tyrion snorted "I'm a dwarf"

"And?"

"Dwarfs can't build muscle. They're born weak and are fortunate if they don't get fat" he said, self-hatred lurking in his eyes

Words failed Sansa, and she struggled to not laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. There wasn't an ounce of fat on Tyrion – if anything he was still a little too lean. He was the cleverest man she'd ever met, yet his words were full of childish belief and Sansa didn't need to think hard on where he'd developed such a belief. That he'd spoken with such conviction warned Sansa that this false belief had been held for a long time and would be difficult to change. Tyrion was usually very logical. Telling him wouldn't suffice; she needed to show him the flaws in his thinking.

"How do you know dwarfs can't build muscle?" she asked, lightly rubbing her thumb against his cheek

"I've never been strong Sansa"

"I see" she said, nodding "Before you came to Winterfell did you ever help out in the kennels?"

"No..."

"Did you eat three proper meals a day and get a full night's sleep?"

"Sometimes"

The redness creeping into Tyrion's face proved her words were having the desired effect, but her strongest evidence was undeniable.

"Did you go to the practice yard every day and train with a sword?" she asked, stroking his face

"Of course not"

Sansa smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead "Sweetheart, I love you but when we married in Kings Landing the closest you came to physical labour was lifting your wine glass"

A hesitant smile tugged at Tyrion's mouth "I carried an axe in the battle of Blackwater"

"If I recall correctly, Podrick was carrying it for you"

"Axes are heavy"

Embarrassment burned across his face as he accepted the truth, shuffling half-heartedly in her grasp. Sansa refused to let go, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks as her fingers tangled in the ends of his hair.

"I'm sorry Sansa, you must think I'm stupid" he said, lowering his eyes "When it wouldn't fit...I was embarrassed"

"No need to apologise or be embarrassed my love" she said "You can tell me anything – always"

"It's just...I always believed I would be physically weak. I'd never be as strong as Jamie"

"Who told you that?"

"Cersei" he admitted

There was a grain of truth hidden beneath Cersei's cruelty; he would never be as strong as his brother – his size would always leave him disadvantaged in that regard. That didn't mean he was incapable of developing some physical strength however. Sansa smiled at her husband, hoping he would see the humour in this situation. The few times she'd had the opportunity to see Tyrion naked she'd commented on the benefits of his sword practice, but apparently he'd taken her compliments as empty words. She'd have to fix that. They'd joined in the bed twice now and despite her best efforts Tyrion always managed to turn the focus to her pleasure, carefully thwarting her efforts to focus on him. Despite her many reassurances of how desirable she found him, Tyrion's discomfort with his body would take far longer than a few weeks to vanquish. It was something she was determined to do; seeing him so self-conscious broke her heart.

"I think Cersei was jealous" she said

"Oh?"

"You were clearly the smartest Lannister. Brains and brawn would have made you too dangerous" she said "I think that's why she was so awful to you"

"An interesting theory"

"Based on fact – she certainly wasn't the cleverest Lannister"

Tyrion's eyes brightened, a smile crossing his face "Thank you Sansa, you always know how to put things into perspective"

"Any time - I know how lost you get in your head"

"I'm sorry I'm like this; you shouldn't need to reassure me over something so stupid..."

"You're perfect exactly as you are Tyrion" she said, tightening her grip on his face "and comforting you is one of the many benefits of being your wife"

"Gods know there can't be many"

"Stop that" she said gently "You mean everything to me and I won't let anyone insult you – including you"

His green eyes studied hers for the briefest moment as if searching for any hint of dishonesty. Sansa didn't mind; she'd grown used to Tyrion's need to be certain of someone's words. Hesitantly he nodded, leaning into her touch.

"I love you" he said

"And I love you" she said, guiding his mouth to hers for a kiss

Unlike the teasing, passionate kisses that left them hungry for more this was simpler though no less full of love. When they pulled away she was relieved to see the shame creeping out of Tyrion's eyes.

"Now, how about we find you a different tunic?"

Tyrion nodded, biting his lip "Will they fit?"

"My love, you haven't grown overnight" she said, moving her hands to the tunic hanging open around him "Was this one at the back of your draws?"

"Yes" he said, fidgeting with his shift "I know you did the stitching on this one"

"I did" she said "When you were missing I noticed how plain all your clothes were – nothing to show my husband was a lion, so I pulled out a few of your tunics to work on. I'll find you another one"

"Any will do" he said, tugging off the ill-fitting one

Moving stiffly from her kneeling position Sansa made her way to Tyrion's draws, searching for one of his newer ones. Seeing as he'd made the decision to wear one with lions Sansa would choose one too.

When she returned to Tyrion with a dark grey tunic covered in golden lions, her husband was fidgeting on the spot – nervousness in his eyes as if afraid this one would also refuse to fit.

"Let me" she said, helping him into it and doing up the clasps. Unlike his original choice, this one fit him perfectly – a fact Tyrion couldn't understand.

"Why would this one fit and not the other?" he asked "Esther hasn't measured me for clothes since our wedding"

"She's a seamstress Tyrion. If you're interested in needlework you develop an eye for size" she explained, smoothing out the tunic across his shoulders "Esther's probably noticed you've gotten broader and adjusted your newer clothes accordingly"

"The difference can't be that noticeable"

Oh, but it could. Sansa might have been inclined to agree with Tyrion if she hadn't seen the Wolfswood for herself. The image of how sickly Tyrion had looked when he was taken from Winterfell was fresh in her mind; contrasting sharply with the healthy husband before her.

"It's very noticeable my love" she said, trailing her hand down his chest "If you're still not convinced I'm willing to further examine your so-called fat"

"You are?"

"Certainly" she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek "your shift was hiding much from me and it simply won't do. As you pointed out, my campaign to make you eat properly contributed to this and I should inspect the rewards"

A laugh fell from Tyrion, his face brightening "You accept responsibility for my now useless tunic?"

"Gladly"

* * *

Over the week and half Bran had been at Winterfell, Arya knew there were only two possible locations to find him - his room or the Godswood. Given the Godswood was currently empty that left his chambers. Confident she wasn't going to find him in the same position she'd found Tyrion and Sansa in yesterday, Arya eased the door open and slipped inside.

For once Bran wasn't staring vacantly out the window, but had his wheelchair pulled up to the desk in the corner of the room - his head bent over a letter.

"Hello Arya" he said, not lifting his head

"Bran" she greeted, wandering into the room "Am I disturbing you?"

"Would it matter if you were?"

"Probably not" she said, pulling up a chair to the side of the desk

He went back to his letter, adding a few more words before signing it and folding it over.

"Doing anything important?" she asked

"I'm King, on occasion I must do some work"

Arya nodded, studying her brother. She'd heard from Ser Davos they were planning to leave in a few days, but Bran hadn't mentioned it. As excited as she'd been to see her brother again he seemed to want little to do with them. In truth she still wasn't happy with what he'd put Sansa through.

"Tyrion told me what you showed him yesterday" she said, watching Bran heat his seal

"It was his name day gift"

"He seemed happy"

"Good"

The art of conversation was well and truly dead with Bran. The past few days it had become increasingly obvious Bran didn't want to talk to her, but she couldn't understand why. Arya liked to think that out of their family she was the most accepting of his strange abilities.

When Tyrion had come to her before dinner yesterday, a smile on his face as he eagerly told her of the Godswood it had taken all her willpower to not knock down Bran's door. What in the seven hells was Bran doing? First bringing Sansa back to see the Wolfswood and then showing Tyrion how his mother died. Arya knew her sister would be haunted by what she'd seen and Bran was very lucky Tyrion wasn't the same. To her relief and probably Sansa's as well, Tyrion's experience had given him a chance to see his mother and he appeared to have cherished it. Arya was happy he was happy - but it didn't mean she wasn't angry with Bran for taking such a risk. It could have so easily hurt him.

"Can you bring anyone to the past then?" she asked, tracing the grooves of the table with her finger

Bran placed his sealed letter to one side, settling back into his wheelchair.

"No. I could show Sansa only because she has Northern blood and the old gods allowed it. They didn't like it, but she is Queen in the North"

"Tyrion has no Northern blood. How could he see?"

"Why is Lyon bonded to him?" he shot back, folding his hands in his lap "The old Gods favour him"

Arya narrowed her eyes "Why?"

Bran stared at her, his eyes both familiar and strange "What do you want from me Arya?"

"To spend time with the brother I don't see" she said, curling her hand into a fist "I know you're different now Bran, but you're still a Stark - still a wolf"

"I'm not really"

Why was he saying this? Arya studied her older brother, searching for any hint he was joking or merely in need of reminding - but everything about him was indifferent. His hands were folded in his lap, his head tilted to one side as he watched her.

"You'll always be a Stark; it's in your blood"

"Bran Stark lost everything so he could become the three-eyed raven" he said "I could have never become this if I hadn't left Winterfell - if I hadn't gone beyond the wall"

"That doesn't make you any less my brother"

"To become this I gave up my claim to Winterfell, I gave up the direwolf sigil - people died so the three-eyed raven could live"

"You're not making any sense"

Bran shifted in his wheelchair, his dark eyes staring through her "You came here looking for your brother Bran Stark - he's dead"

"You're lying"

"You don't understand"

"Then explain" she said, leaning forwards in her seat

"There's nothing more to say" he said, lowering his gaze. For the briefest moment sadness swept across his otherwise neutral eyes, and it was all the incentive she needed. Moving swiftly from her seat, Arya placed her hands on the arms of Bran's wheelchair, locking her eyes onto his.

"If something's bothering you, let us help - we're your pack"

"No, you're not"

"Bran, please…"

"Sansa and Tyrion are your pack" he said, his voice hardening "If you're desperate for company visit with them"

Her chest tightened at the harsh words, but she wasn't willing to give up "You're not being you. I know you're different - we all are. The real Bran is still in there"

For the first time Arya felt like she was looking at a stranger when Bran's dark eyes burned into hers "I'm the world's memory. You, Sansa, Tyrion - you're all just pieces of a greater whole to me. We were family once, but not anymore"

Something hot pricked at the back of Arya's eyes, but she refused to let her tears fall "Why are you saying this?"

"So you'll stop looking for Bran Stark"

"I will never stop looking for my brother"

"I thought you understood becoming no-one? _A girl must give up her name and everything she holds dear if she is to become no-one._ The same is true of the three-eyed raven"

"I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell" she said, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the arms of the wheelchair "and you are Brandon Stark of Winterfell. You're Ned Stark's last living son"

"Am I really living?" he asked "I see the past and the present; glimpses of the future"

"You're pushing me away. You have been since you got to Winterfell"

"I don't need to push you away"

Arya's throat tightened as she stepped back from the wheelchair "It won't work. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives"

"I'm not a wolf"

She couldn't take it anymore. Everything he was saying was to push her way, but she had no idea why. There'd been flickers of the real Bran throughout his visit, but it was like he was using the three-eyed raven as a shield. Reluctantly, she turned away from him, unable to hear anymore.

She pulled the door open, pausing for a moment "There's room in the pack for a raven with three eyes"

* * *

A thousand questions bubbled through Pod's mind as he made his way down the path that led into the village. He glanced sideways at lord Tyrion, who was clutching the pommel of his sword - a hint of nervousness in his face since they left the gates of Winterfell, though he was trying to hide it. Lyon trotted ahead of them, occasionally darting back to brush against his master.

The lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West - titles never meant for Podrick Payne.

While he had grown increasingly less satisfied with his role as sworn shield, and joining the Kingsguard had lost its appeal - lordship had never seemed an option. Not until the man beside him suggested he become lord of Casterly Rock. A fierce pride had ignited in him when his former lord suggested him. That Tyrion thought he might be worthy to rule his ancestral home was the greatest compliment he could have hoped for. It was only when Bran and Brienne dragged him off for a meeting the reality had set in. He was going to be the lord of a great seat and Warden of the West. No longer would he be serving other lords; they would be serving him. The realisation had washed over him like cold water, waking him from the dream like trance he'd been in following dinner.

The hours had dragged on endlessly through the night, until it was at last morning and an acceptable time to call upon lord Tyrion and ask to speak with him. Sansa and Tyrion were already working at their shared desk when he arrived, but neither had seemed surprised to see him. Sansa had invited him to join them, but Tyrion had asked Pod to accompany him into the village instead.

"I'm afraid I misplaced them some time ago" said Tyrion as they walked

Pod glanced down at him in confusion "My lord?"

"The keys to Casterly Rock lord Payne" he said, a grin tugging at his mouth "I fear you'll need to break into your new castle"

"Lord Tyrion-"

"I'm not your lord anymore" he reminded him "and you are now lord paramount of the West. The lords of the Westerlands must always bow lower to you or they will respect you no more than they did my grandfather"

"Lord Tytos" said Pod, as Tyrion nodded

"Indeed. By all reports my grandfather was a kind man but he allowed the other lords to have power over him. While I detest the methods my father used to bring about the end of the Tarbecks and Castamere's, there was a need to restore discipline amongst the banner men" continued Tyrion, as Winterfell faded into the distance behind them "Now tell me Pod, what can I do for you?"

They were friends now; no longer lord and squire. There was no reason he shouldn't be honest with him. All night Pod had been consumed by the task before him, planning what he needed to ask Tyrion. Now was his opportunity.

Pod sucked in a breath, straightening his posture "There are so many things I don't know about ruling. I don't know where to begin"

"I see"

"I'd ask for your advice. I was never meant to be lord of anything…I…I'd appreciate your help"

Tyrion smiled widely at him "Then you shall have it"

"Thank you" he said, some of the tension leaving him "I don't want to let you down"

"You needn't fear on that count; you've never let me down Pod" said Tyrion, patting his back "Nor should you concern yourself with pleasing anyone. I suggested you because you have the makings of a great lord"

Pod's cheeks flushed at the praise "I don't have any experience in ruling. I'm from a minor branch of house Payne"

"Experience comes through practice, and a wise lord knows what he knows and seeks advice when he doesn't" said Tyrion "You are the last of your house if I'm not mistaken?"

"I am, but I was never close with my house. Ser Cedric Payne took care of me but treated me as a servant"

Tyrion nodded in sympathy. None of this was news to him; Tyrion had enquired about his relation to house Payne years ago "Being the last of one's house can be lonely, though it does present an opportunity to reinvent one's self. You've noticed the banners in the great hall?"

"Black with a golden lion"

"When I came to Winterfell I tried to distance myself from the Lannister name. Better to blend in with the Northerners. When I became the lord of Winterfell I didn't use the lion sigil that was my birth right - I used a W for Winterfell"

Pod said nothing, absorbed in the story as Tyrion's eyes grew distant.

"After the Wolfswood…things changed" he continued "Sansa insisted I use a proper seal; either the Lannister lion or the Stark direwolf. A seal is such a simple thing, yet to me it was a huge decision. Everything I'd done since coming North was to hide, and later to honour the Starks as lord of Winterfell. I'd done my best to become a wolf, choosing the direwolf sigil would seem obvious, wouldn't it?"

"You didn't though"

Tyrion shook his head "I didn't. Partly because I did not wish to dishonour the Starks - but mostly because I could no longer deny what I was. I am a Lannister, and as much as I resent it, in many ways I am my father's son"

"You're a good man" insisted Pod "You could never dishonour the Starks"

"Sansa and Arya have told me the same often enough. They accepted me for who I am, even when I didn't accept myself" he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards "The point of this rambling Pod is the best advice I can offer you; be yourself. You do not need to rule Casterly Rock as the Lannister's did any more than I need to become Ned Stark"

"I…I understand"

"Good" said Tyrion "I cannot change being a Lannister, but I can make it my own. I chose the lion sigil with black wax - a Northern lion as Sansa is fond of saying. Accepting who you are is difficult, particularly when you dislike your own reflection - nevertheless it is healthier than pretending to be something you're not"

Podrick nodded, eagerly soaking up the hard won wisdom Tyrion was imparting. He'd planned a list of things to ask Tyrion; how to do this and that, who to appoint to which position. The lord of Winterfell seemed to have anticipated what he wanted and instead given him what he needed; a push to be himself.

"I can't be you" said Pod

"Thank the gods for that"

"I need to rule Casterly Rock as Podrick Payne"

Tyrion's face brightened at his understanding "Quite so. I believe house Payne's rule over Casterly Rock will be the start of a new age for the Westerlands"

Pod reached down, grasping his former lords shoulder "Thank you Tyrion"

"You're more than welcome" said Tyrion, smiling warmly at him "I'm at your disposal - any knowledge I have to offer is yours"

"I'd appreciate that very much"

"You're a good man Pod - believe in yourself" said Tyrion patting his arm as they continued into the village "Now what questions did you wish to ask?"

Podrick smiled as he reassessed what he actually needed to know. Years of squiring and serving in different castles had given him plenty of insight into what worked and what didn't. If he'd asked Tyrion all the things he thought he needed answers to he may as well not be lord of Casterly Rock. The only people Pod served now were Bran and people of the Westerlands - and he could rule it as he saw fit. The task had seemed monumental this morning, but the man beside him had quickly put things into perspective.

Learning to be a lord would take time but things weren't as hopeless as he thought. Experience would come in time, and he had people to turn to for guidance. From what Pod had seen, being a good lord was based on being a good man; and Tyrion had taught him that long ago.

* * *

The great hall wasn't the same as when he was a boy.

It was to be expected, years of war and the long night had left lasting scars across Westeros – Winterfell was no different. Much of the castle had been damaged by the long night, and as Sansa ordered it be rebuilt things had changed. The great hall was longer and the walls higher than before; more suited to a Queen than a lord. The damaged towers had been rebuilt much the same as before, but the castle was brighter than when Bran had last been here. Whether consciously or not Sansa's influence could be found throughout the castle. Her youth spent in Kings Landing had changed her tastes, and Winterfell itself was more open to light – as if it was somehow enough to chase out the shadows that lurked in the walls.

Winterfell had played host to both moments of great joy and terror. It was little wonder Sansa had changed the castle somewhat – some of her darkest memories were locked inside these walls.

Bran sat in his wheelchair along from Sansa's throne. The Queen would be holding court soon and the long tables had been moved aside for the occasion. His eyes wandered to the banners hanging in the great hall; the wolf, the lion and the raven. One of them was out of place in Winterfell.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor and Sansa's conversation carried through to Bran.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Perhaps your Grace, but lord Tyrion has received a letter every day for over a week now – for it to stop so suddenly is rather odd"

"Maybe they finally got bored Maester"

The footsteps came to a sudden halt and Bran turned his head to see Sansa stood in the entrance to the great hall with Maester Wolkan at her side.

"Hello Bran" she said, her eyebrows knitting in confusion "I didn't expect to see you here"

"I thought I might watch you hold court?"

Sansa nodded slowly "Of course"

Bran smiled, returning his gaze to the banners and the empty hall before him.

"If you could make the preparations for court Maester" he heard Sansa say, followed by the sound of the old man's chain clinking as he disappeared back into the corridor

"Court never interested me much as a boy" said Bran as Sansa climbed up the steps to join him "I wanted to be a knight – not a lord"

"So did Tyrion"

"A path not meant for either of us. You were always meant to be a Queen though"

The side of Sansa's mouth turned upwards "That almost sounded like a compliment"

"It was meant to be. You are where you're supposed to be Sansa"

"So are you. You may be King little brother but Winterfell will always be your home too"

"Arya spoke to you?"

"If you could call it speaking" she said, lifting an eyebrow at him "It involved a lot of pacing and threats against ravens"

Bran shook his head "I told Arya what I had to. It's true as well – I'm not a wolf anymore"

Sansa hummed, turning her gaze to the banners "When Tyrion came here he tried to not be a Lannister, and all it did was hurt him. I didn't notice at the time...but now it's so clear. Everything he did was to fit in; to become one of us. Tyrion never needed to change himself; I love him because of everything he is. Being a lion is part of him, however different he is to the man I once knew"

"There's no wolf left in me"

"Arya doesn't believe that"

"The three-eyed raven can't be biased. You understand better than most what power can make you do"

Sansa stiffened for an instant beside him before relaxing "What you showed Tyrion yesterday – was that for a greater purpose? Or did you just want to make him happy?"

"It was the old Gods who allowed him to see" said Bran, lacing his fingers in his lap "When Tyrion knelt before you in chains, you told him a man gets what he earns in the North. He earned a gift"

His eyes flicked to Sansa's in time to see the remorse twist across her face at the reminder of how her husband had been brought to her.

"I regret that" she said, her voice heavy "Having him brought here like a prisoner. I shouldn't have asked you to sentence him like that...what I did was cruel"

"It was" agreed Bran "but I did as you asked because it was the only way"

"For what?"

"If Tyrion was to go North he had to lose everything – it was the only way he would find a place here" said Bran "As you told him in the crypts; his divided loyalties would have been a problem"

Sansa's face didn't change but her posture grew rigid at his knowledge of their conversation during the long night.

"Coming here cost him so much…if I hadn't interfered and left him in Kings Landing he wouldn't have suffered any of this"

"He would have been safe in Kings Landing, serving as my hand. He'd have done an excellent job too - but he wouldn't have been happy"

Sansa turned to him, one hand fiddling with her other "What do you mean?"

"I've told you before I can't see the future, but I do know Tyrion wouldn't have been happy in Kings Landing. He'd have served me dutifully for a year or so, but lack of self-care would have caught up with him eventually. Tyrion would have died alone"

The Queen grimaced at the image, shaking her head "You wouldn't have let that happen. Pod, Brienne, Ser Davos - they'd have looked after him"

"They'd have tried I'm sure" said Bran "but it wouldn't have been what he needed"

"What did he need?"

"A home, a family - you"

Sansa's face reddened at his words, but they were the truth. Bran had already told Sansa he let her take Tyrion to save her from herself - he was the only one who could reach her. Yet the reverse was equally true; Sansa was the only one who could heal Tyrion. It had taken far longer than Bran had hoped but the Wolfswood had been the breaking point for both of them; breaking Sansa's icy mask and exposing Tyrion's shattered soul - they needed each other.

"For someone who claims to not see the future you seem to have a solid idea of how things would have happened. Who's to say Tyrion wouldn't have found a wife and been happy?"

It was Bran's turn to shake his head "What happened in Kings Landing broke him"

"I made things worse when he came here" said Sansa, her face tightening "you know that"

"I knew sending him here would cause him great pain, but there was a tiny chance of a successful outcome. I took the chance"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Tyrion is where he's supposed to be - I'm sure of that now"

Sansa raised an eyebrow "Does this mean you'll stop trying to kidnap him?"

"I think he's rejected me enough, and Pod is now lord of Casterly Rock anyway" said Bran "I could always offer him Highgarden"

"Don't even think about it" warned Sansa, though a smile pulled at her mouth "Brother or not I would call the banners"

Bran smiled, returning his gaze to the empty great hall. It was a lifetime ago since he sat here with Robb and Rickon. Sansa seemed to sense his melancholy, her eyes turning distant "I miss our family"

"Everything's changed" he said

"It doesn't have to. Arya thinks you're pushing us away"

"Arya thinks I'm still Brandon Stark"

Sansa sighed, stepping away from Bran towards her throne "So you want to watch my court session?"

"If I won't bother you"

"You're always welcome little brother"

Bran shifted in his wheelchair, making himself comfortable as Sansa prepared to receive her petitioners. Winterfell guards took up place around the hall and Maester Wolkan returned to assist her. The three-eyed raven could see everything through a thousand eyes, but sometimes Bran liked to use his own.

* * *

Tyrion fought back a smile watching Nessa and Pod. After leaving Winterfell they'd made their way into the village and Tyrion had gone to collect his squire. The young girl had greeted him and Lyon with her usual cheerfulness but her eyes had narrowed upon seeing Podrick.

"I think Nessa's a bit jealous" whispered Tess, leaning against the frame of the door

"Arya shared a similar thought with me" he said

Pod had apparently noticed the girl's reaction to him throughout his stay at Winterfell and greeted her warmly, complimenting her balancing skills. When they arrived Nessa had been demonstrating some sort of game to Ethan. Tyrion hadn't quite worked it out, but the game appeared to involve hopping along a winding path marked by sticks - a game Podrick was losing.

"You put your foot down" said Nessa gravely "back to the start"

"Again?" asked Pod, visibly deflating

"Those the rules" she told him

"I think he needs another demonstration Nessa" called Tyrion, shooting a grin at the young knight as the girl jumped into position.

Unlike Podrick's ungainly hopping, Nessa made quick work of the course - balancing with the ease only a child could have. When she reached the finish line, Nessa immediately turned to Tyrion and her mother - both applauding her efforts.

"Well done Nessa!" he said "You made that look easy. Surely Ser Podrick can manage?"

"This could take a while" said Pod, moving back to the start as Nessa beamed at the praise

"Well we can't possible move on until you complete it" said Tyrion "Can you imagine telling Ser Brienne you lost a game of balance? She'd have you sparring with her on one leg"

Pod rolled his eyes, but dutifully went about trying the course again. Tyrion turned his attention to Tess, who stood watching her daughter with a warm smile. The woman's health was always fragile, but today she seemed more tired than usual.

"How are you?" he asked

"I'm fine - just a little tired"

Tyrion nodded "I know how prideful you Northerners are; if you ever need help please let me know. Don't suffer in silence"

"You're too kind Tyrion" she said, smiling warmly at him

"My reasons are entirely selfish" he said "Nessa is my squire and it is my belief a happy squire is more productive. Therefore, her family should also be happy"

Tess laughed, turning her attention back to Pod's wobbling attempt to finally complete the course to Nessa's satisfaction "Are you going to tell her Podrick isn't here to reclaim his old position? I've tried to convince her he serves King Bran and not Queen Sansa"

"Nessa needn't worry - as if anyone else would want to serve a grumpy dwarf"

"You'd be surprised" she said evenly "A lot of the village children are rather jealous Nessa gets to work for you"

Tyrion raised an eyebrow "Oh, please"

"It's true" she insisted "They're all quite taken with their lion lord"

Something stirred deep inside Tyrion at her words. Was it possible? He'd tried to be a good lord and honour the Starks, but as he pointed out to Podrick earlier - he couldn't be Ned Stark either. As much as he'd tried to blend in he couldn't deny who he was entirely. Northern lords were used to manual work, seeing the small folk and living without the pampered luxuries their southern counterparts enjoyed. Tyrion had done his best to embrace their way of life and to his surprise he enjoyed much of it – but he would never quite fill Ned Stark's place. Tyrion was bookish and cunning where lord Stark had been a soldier through and through; physical and direct.

He hadn't known Ned or Robb Stark very well, but he rather doubted either of them had been as pathetically sensitive as he was. Shame for this morning hung over him like a cloud. Tyrion had always thought he had his mind if nothing else, but even that had betrayed him this morning – spiralling into a panic when his tunic didn't fit. Logic and reason had gone out the window, giving way to the childish beliefs buried within him.

Sansa had soothed him with practiced ease, carefully deconstructing his false belief with fact. She hadn't mocked him; despite how ridiculous his behaviour surely seemed. Tyrion had gotten much better at ignoring the dark whispers of his mind, but when they did take hold it left him exposed in a way he hated. There was nothing he disliked more than feeling vulnerable; it wasn't how he wanted Sansa to see him – yet she didn't seem to mind.

When doubts and insecurities plagued him, Sansa reassured him.

When the dark voices said he didn't belong, Sansa said he was hers.

As Tyrion watched Ethan toddle over to him, a smile on his young face –he thought it didn't matter he wasn't Ned Stark. Sansa and Arya accepted him as he was, as did the Winterfell household and the smallfolk. If they accepted Tyrion Lannister despite his many flaws, perhaps he could accept himself. Giving the advice to Podrick was easy; doing it himself would take time.

"Ty'ion" said Ethan "Play?"

The little boy beamed up at him, his dark eyes full of hope. As soon as they arrived Ethan had abandoned Nessa's game in favour of petting the 'doggy' as he called Lyon. The golden wolf had quickly forgiven the insult as the small boy smothered him with attention.

"Ethan, Tyrion is a lord – he might not have time to play" warned Tess

The lord of Winterfell looked between the hopeful boy and Pod's flailing efforts at Nessa's increasingly difficult course. He turned to the boy, offering him a smile "I think I have time Ethan. Based on Pod's performance we may be here all day"

* * *

_'Trouble is the perfect time for training'_

Arya's sword sliced through the air in a furious arc before jabbing forwards. It took all her willpower to not imagine the three-eyed raven on the other end. Between her and Sansa she'd always had more patience with his abilities. Where Bran's knowledge and vague words unsettled Sansa, Arya accepted it as part of who he was now. What she couldn't accept was why Bran was pushing her away.

_'The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true'_

There lay her problem. Her heart ached and her mind was angry - but her eyes had seen little. Everything Bran had said was with the same monotone voice and expressionless face. Only for the briefest moment had she seen something to give her hope. A flash of sadness in his dark eyes - as if the real Bran Stark hadn't liked what he was doing.

Arya pivoted on the spot, needle twisting and turning effortlessly in her hand. Bran was distancing himself from her, what she didn't know was why. After speaking to him, she'd gone to Sansa wondering if her older sister had experienced the same.

"Who really knows with Bran" the Queen had said, shuffling through the correspondence on her desk "One day he acts like our brother, the next he doesn't"

"This was different" she'd insisted "it was like he really wanted us to give up on him - like he didn't want to be family anymore"

"Well that won't happen, no matter what game he's playing. I wouldn't worry Arya; trying to figure out what Bran really wants will drive you insane"

It was easy for Sansa to say, she'd never been as close to Bran as Arya had. It was on her way out to the practice yard she'd gone past the great hall to see Sansa holding court - and Bran watching. He spent time with Tyrion yesterday and Sansa today; but not with her?

The youngest Stark drew in a breath, willing herself to become lost in the water dance. Bran had made it abundantly clear he didn't want her company, and it was time she accepted it. That didn't mean she wouldn't observe from a distance; that momentary break in demeanour where she'd seen Bran beneath the three-eyed raven was enough for her to believe Bran's actions had a purpose.

It took a while but the sword practice gradually wore away some of her frustration with her brother. If she was to see clearly, emotions couldn't distract her. Guards came and went in the practice yard but none bothered her - they knew better than to approach when she was armed.

Years of developing her senses told Arya she had an observer. The heavy crunch of boots against the snow stopped a short distance from her. A smile pulled at her face; there was only one person those steps could belong to.

"Care to join me?" she asked, keeping her back to her opponent

"Gladly"

The faintest scrape of a sword being drawn reached her ears and Arya spun on the spot to meet Ser Brienne's blade with her own. Whatever hesitation the knight had once had in sparring with her had long faded and both treated each match as if it was a real fight.

Energy shot through Arya as she threw herself into the fight. This was exactly the release she needed. Practicing alone was fine but it never quite compared to a well-matched opponent. The guards would spar with her occasionally but there was only Alec who gave her a half-decent match. Sparring with Tyrion was interesting in the sense he would do the unexpected - using his mind to compensate for their difference in skill. It wasn't the same as fighting Brienne though. Many of the guards feared facing her, and she was careful to not push Tyrion and risk damaging his confidence.

As she ducked a slice that would have taken her head off, Arya had no such concerns with Brienne. Both could hold their own despite their differences in size and style. Leaping to one side, Arya jabbed forwards with needle aiming the blade at Brienne's throat. The knight flicked her own sword up in time to deflect the blow, following up by ramming her shoulder into Arya.

Staggering back from the blow, Arya grinned at her friend "Rough morning?"

"You could say that"

Readjusting her stance, Arya danced just out of reach of the follow up strike, dropping back into her guard "Does it happen to involve a raven?"

Brienne grunted, throwing all her strength into a blistering assault that forced Arya backwards "What makes you think that?"

"Bran informed me this morning that Bran Stark is dead - that he isn't a wolf anymore"

"He told me he already has a new sworn shield that's accepted the position"

"One of the guards?"

"Meera Reed"

Arya's brow knitted together "Pod only got Casterly Rock last night, how has that happened so fast?"

The lord commander's face darkened as they exchanged strikes and Arya's mind whirred to life at the implication. Bran must have already asked Meera. Arya hadn't met her but she'd heard how the Reed children had helped Bran go beyond the wall. From the little she could gather Meera had returned to Winterfell with Bran, but the two had parted on poor terms.

"We stopped at Greywater Watch on the way here. Bran spoke privately with Meera and has been writing to her since" said Brienne, clenching her teeth as Arya slipped under her guard and struck rapidly with needle until her sword found Brienne's exposed throat

They froze in place until the knight nodded, accepting the defeat. Both lowered their weapons, panting heavily as the frosty air turned their breath to mist.

"You think he planned to replace Pod?" asked Arya

Brienne shrugged "I don't understand why. Podrick's served him faithfully, but since we came here Bran has treated him poorly"

"I noticed Pod looking a bit lost"

"I offered to speak to Bran about him joining the Kingsguard again, but he didn't seem as keen as he was"

It was unusual for Brienne to complain, but Bran's treatment of her former squire had clearly offended her. Podrick had served her faithfully too and his new lordship meant he was bound for Casterly Rock - not Kings Landing. Sympathy wound through her for the knight; she would be losing one of her closest friends.

"It's Bran's loss. Pod's a great knight, and he'll be a great lord" said Arya, crossing her arms

Brienne forced a smile "I'm sure he will"

"I've not seen him since dinner last night, is he happy?"

"I don't think he could believe it. Pod has great respect for lord Tyrion and being chosen by him to rule Casterly Rock…I think it means a lot to him"

Arya offered her friend a smile "He's well prepared for it. Squiring for you and Tyrion will have taught him a lot"

"When I saw him this morning he was on his way to Tyrion. I think his nerves might have caught up with his excitement"

Sansa had said much the same. Tyrion had taken Pod to the village with him and she could only assume they were discussing his new role. If she was in Pod's place she'd be doing the same.

"So when I walked in on Bran this morning was he in the middle of writing a love letter to Meera?" she asked as they made their way out of the practice yard

"I can't imagine that"

"It would explain why he wanted me gone" mused Arya

"Bran's words are either vague or cutting; can you imagine a romantic letter from him?"

"Gods no" snorted Arya, changing her voice to imitate Bran's monotone "I liked that blue gown you were wearing by the marshes the other night. I was the frog on the left"

Brienne spluttered, fighting the grin on her face "Arya…"

"Do you think that's why he's been spending so much time in the Godswood? Warging into frogs to court Meera - she probably carries one around with her for when he wants to visit"

"I shouldn't laugh" said Brienne, her face turning red at the effort "Bran is my King"

Arya shrugged "Sansa's my Queen and she's not exempt"

"Nice to know you treat your royal siblings equally"

"Tyrion too. Have you ever seen him pout?"

"I don't believe so"

"Wait until dinner. As soon as I tease him he'll turn to Sansa with his big green eyes and she'll just melt in his hands"

* * *

It was midday when the Winterfell household gathered to see off the Cerwyn and Tallhart parties. Bran hadn't come but Podrick had turned up with Tyrion and Nessa. Sansa glanced down at her husband as the last of the horses disappeared into the distance. Tyrion had been so embarrassed this morning, but thankfully he seemed more himself now. Lyon whined at his feet, rubbing against him for attention.

"Yes, you can have a nap now" said Tyrion, scratching the wolf's ears "I'm sure playing with Ethan exhausted you"

"How was the village?" asked Sansa, taking his arm as they turned back to the castle. Arya had already disappeared while Pod and Nessa appeared to be engaged in some sort of storytelling

"It went well enough" he said "though many of the merchants are struggling without their supplies from White Harbour"

"Maester Wolkan sent word of your ruling to lord Manderly the other day, and I wrote to him today reinforcing it. He should have got your letter now and things should get moving again"

"I hope so. Many families are struggling"

Sansa nodded, her eyes wandering to Pod and Nessa ahead of them "What happened there? I thought Nessa was jealous of Pod"

Tyrion glanced up at her, his brow furrowing "Did Arya tell you that?"

"It was obvious" said Sansa, shaking her head

"To everyone but me apparently"

"Nessa loves serving you and she knows Podrick was once your squire. If you were a little girl like her wouldn't you be worried a knight like Pod was going to take your place?"

"Hmm, maybe you're right" he said "In any case Nessa now knows Pod is lord of Casterly Rock and will not be retaking his position as my squire"

Sansa nodded "Explains why she's now happy to talk to him"

"Poor Pod did his best to win her over. I lost count how many tries it took him to complete her hopping course"

"Do I even want to know what you've been doing?" asked Sansa

"Probably not" he agreed, squeezing her arm "How was your court session?"

"Nothing of importance to report, though Bran did come to watch"

"Oh?"

"It was strange" continued Sansa "Arya was complaining this morning about how Bran was pushing us all away, but then he turns up to watch my court session?"

"Strange" said Tyrion "but it probably made sense to Bran"

Walking up the few steps into Winterfell, Sansa caught sight of Alec hovering near the door.

"Your Grace, my lord" he greeted as they approached. Sansa knew the titles were for her benefit – none of her husband's friends used his title when they were in private company.

"Alec – are the men ready?" she asked, taking in his riding gear

"Aye, your Grace. We'll be riding shortly and will meet up with lord Cerwyn's and lady Tallhart's men before moving to take Widows Watch"

Sansa nodded in satisfaction. While their allies had just left for home, they'd sent instructions yesterday for a number of their men to ride for the Kings Road. Alec would lead a group of the Winterfell guard to meet with them and together they would march to take Widows Watch in the crowns name. A letter had been sent to house Mazin and house Hornwood asking for reinforcements to join with them at Ramsgate. The young lord Mazin was still escorting the wildlings to Ramsgate, but it was likely he would arrive ahead of the joined forces. Sansa's letter was written to his father, but she suspected his son would be eager to join the attack when he learned of it.

"Good luck" said Tyrion, clasping hands with the Winterfell captain "Who's going with you?"

"I'm taking Lyle, but Cayn and Brice are staying here"

"How well did that go with Cayn?"

Alec shrugged "He was disappointed, but we need men here too"

"How are the preparations for putting a garrison in place at the empty castles?" asked Sansa

"Slowly I'm afraid. Ideally a mix of men from your closest allies would be best at each location, but co-coordinating it over raven is slow work. Maester Wolkan is going to continue the communication while I'm away and hopefully we'll have a force ready to take the Dreadfort soon"

"Who knows how long they'll need to stay there" said Tyrion "Robin and Gawan could be hiding anywhere North of Winterfell"

Sansa shook her head "I should have filled the empty seats by now, but there are so few families left to inherit such important seats"

"We'll find them one way or another" said Alec, clapping Tyrion on the shoulder "If you could stop Cayn moping while we're away I'd appreciate it"

Tyrion laughed "Perhaps I can convince Pod to spar with him"

"It would be good practice" said Alec, before turning and bowing his head to Sansa "With your leave I will ready the men to depart"

The Queen nodded "I wish you good fortunate. Take any prisoners you find; if you hear word of a possible location for Robin and Gawan report immediately"

"Yes, your Grace" he said, straightening up "We will not fail"

As Alec walked away, Sansa's attention fell to Tyrion beside her. Guilt was creeping into his face as his friend left.

"This is my fault" he said softly "If any of them are injured or killed-"

"No" said Sansa, finding his hand and enclosing it in her own "This is for the safety of the North Tyrion"

"If I hadn't been captured..."

"Then we wouldn't know there was an enemy until it was too late to act"

Tyrion nodded, though he didn't seem convinced "You're right, I just...wish it was over"

"Soon my love" she promised "this is a positive step forwards. We're not on the back foot this time"

There was no reason for anything to go wrong with this operation. The houses she'd involved were the ones she trusted the most. Houses Cerwyn and Tallhart were their staunchest allies, while houses Mazin and Hornwood had proven their loyalty before. She'd decided not to notify house Glover and house Manderly. It was clear they would not aid Winterfell until the situation with Gawan was resolved, and she'd excluded house Dormund because of their ties to house Glover. The only other major houses she hadn't informed were house Dustin of Barrowton and house Locke of Oldcastle. While both had eventually replied to Tyrion's letters, Sansa didn't know either well enough to trust with this.

"Tyrion!" called Nessa, sticking her head out of the great hall "everything's ready for court"

"Thank you Nessa" he replied, as she ducked her head back in the hall

"Are you ok?" asked Sansa, squeezing his hand

"I'm fine" he said, offering her a smile "Do you have need of me this afternoon?"

"Not for anything particular, though your company is always welcome"

"Podrick is joining me for court and I thought I might walk him through the layout of Casterly Rock afterwards"

Sansa forced a smile for her husband, hoping he didn't see the guilt in her own eyes. Tyrion seemed fine with the loss of his childhood home, but Sansa still blamed herself. She knew that some part of him was likely still attached to Casterly Rock, however happy he was at Winterfell.

"I'll see you later then" she said, sweeping down to kiss his forehead "If you're busy I might see Ser Davos to discuss some trade"

"Bring some wine for the poor man – I saw him working this morning and he seemed in need of it"

"The life of Brans hand"

Tyrion slipped away from her, shooting her a grin "You may well have saved me from a cruel fate Sansa Stark"

* * *

With the departure of the Tallhart and Cerwyn parties Winterfell seemed far emptier than Brienne had become used to as she wandered through the halls. As pleased as she was to see Sansa and Arya again, her time in the North hadn't been the happiest. Arguing with Bronn and his subsequent departure had been a constant source of irritation, while Bran had spent most of his time alone. As lord commander protecting Bran and organising the Kingsguard was her duty, but there was little need for her skills while they were tucked away in Winterfell.

Brienne had filled her days trying to help Ser Davos with his workload and visiting with the Stark girls. She'd devoted some time to her sword practice and sparred with Podrick to keep him sharp. Her heart twisted at the thought of her former squire. He would not be returning to Kings Landing with them. Bran had decided they would all go to Casterly Rock on the journey back and he would introduce Podrick as the new lord – then they would leave him.

As happy as she was for Pod, the idea of returning to Kings Landing without him was hard to swallow. He'd been her shadow for so long and was in many ways her closest friend. It was as she wandered upstairs and down yet another winding corridor she heard voices.

"-think it through" came Tyrion's voice

"Easier said than done" answered Podrick

"If you were to attack the rock, how would you do it?"

Brienne had no intention of disturbing them, but her feet had a mind of their own, drawing her closer to the half open door. Peering in the gap, Brienne saw Pod and Tyrion sat at a table near the window; a map spread between them. It was mid-afternoon but the hearth was burning in the corner, chasing out the draughty Northern air. Her heart lurched watching Tyrion prepare Pod for his new role. This meant a lot to Podrick; she knew how nervous he'd been this morning when the reality of the situation hit him.

The knight was about to continue on her way when a bark echoed around the room, followed by paws padding across the floor. Brienne made to retreat, but it was too late. Lyon's face appeared in the doorway, and his bark had drawn his master's attention.

"Ser Brienne" called Tyrion, his mouth turning upwards as his gaze found her in the doorway "would you care to join us?"

"I'm sorry" she said quickly "I was just on my way past"

"Lyon must have sensed the potential for attention" said Tyrion, as the direwolf in question whined at her feet "Come join us"

"I don't want to disturb you" she said, reaching down to ruffle the wolf's fur

"Please" said Podrick, his eyes begging "I don't know where to begin with this"

Brienne wavered in the face of Pod's pleading. It wasn't like she was busy…and she wouldn't see much of Pod after they left Winterfell.

"If you're sure" she said, slipping into the room as Lyon wandered over to Tyrion

She dropped into a seat next to Podrick, her eyes scanning over the table. To her surprise there were two maps. One was weather worn and fraying at the edges but showed the Westerlands, while the other appeared to be a plan of some kind. It took Brienne a moment to realise it was a hand drawn plan of Casterly Rock - as if one was looking down on it from above.

"Where did you find this?" she asked. The plan looked far newer than the map, and Brienne couldn't imagine where they'd got it. Plans such as these would hardly be easy to get hold of, let alone in a rival castle.

"Tyrion drew it" said Pod, nodding towards the dwarf

"It must have taken a long time"

"It took him less than an hour" confirmed Pod, a hint of pride in his eyes

Brienne raised her eyes to find the lord of Winterfell was rapidly turning red.

"It's only a rough outline" he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly "Pod's never actually been to Casterly Rock and I thought he should be aware of all its hidden tunnels"

"Should I be seeing this?" asked Brienne, tearing her eyes away from the detailed plan

"That's for lord Payne to decide" said Tyrion, smirking at the young man

"I trust Ser Brienne with my life" said Pod immediately.

Heat stung the back of her eyes at his response. There wasn't a moments doubt or hesitation in his words, and his respect for her meant everything.

"Very good" said Tyrion, rubbing his hands together "I've been explaining the layout to Pod and the main entrances and exits"

Brienne paid close attention as Tyrion caught her up on what they were doing, and pointed out the key areas on both the map and his own plan of Casterly Rock. As far as she knew Tyrion hadn't set foot in Casterly Rock for years, yet his hand drawn plan was sharp and detailed. As lord commander Brienne was familiar with the type of plan he'd drawn since she'd studied many for the Red Keep, but Tyrion's was far more precise and well done than the ones produced by most Maesters.

"It's good you're here Ser Brienne" said Tyrion "I've tasked Pod with coming up with defensive strategies for the rock. You have a far better mind for military tactics than I; how would you attack Casterly Rock?"

Brienne chewed her lip considering the problem. Tyrion's idea was clever - Pod would be a young, inexperienced lord in an unfamiliar castle. Understanding the strategic strengths and weaknesses of his new lands would be essential. Her eyes flicked to Tyrion, his gaze fixed on the marker indicating Casterly Rock. It occurred to Brienne very few people would do what he was. His ancestral home had been taken from him and given to a new lord - however agreeable Tyrion was to it, on some level it must hurt him. Yet here he sat, preparing the new lord to take over his childhood home; offering all his knowledge and guidance.

While she didn't know Tyrion particularly well, she knew how much he meant to Sansa and Arya – and how Jamie had cared for his little brother. It was obvious when they arrived Tyrion was rather different than he used to be. He was far quieter, content to sit in the background rather than join in. This was probably the most she'd spoken with him since she gave him Jamie's things and part of her was ashamed of that.

There was no reason for her to have not made an effort to get to know Sansa's husband...only she struggled to look at Tyrion without seeing Jamie. They were different in many ways but Brienne couldn't miss the similarities either; their sense of humour, the teasing smiles – the sword that was a twin to her own. A lump formed in her throat at the sight of the sword hanging at Tyrion's waist. Sansa had reforged the broken blade, but it had once belonged to Jamie.

"Ser Brienne, are you alright?"

She drew her gaze from the sword to Tyrion's green eyes that for an instant reminded her of Jamie. It had broken her heart when he left her and Winterfell for Cersei, but eventually she'd understood – his duty was to his family. What would Jamie think if he knew what had happened to his little brother?

"I'm quite alright" she said, returning her attention to the map "the walls make a direct assault near impossible without huge casualties"

"What if there was a secret way in?" said Tyrion, leaning back in his chair as Lyon laid his paws in his lap

"Is there?"

"Perhaps. Pod where would you put a secret entrance?"

The new lord of the Rock scrunched his face in concentration, his finger running over the plans spread before them.

They might only have a day or so left in the North, but there was no reason she couldn't befriend Tyrion. When he'd angrily snapped to Bronn that no-one else cared Jamie was dead it wasn't quite true. Despite her best efforts, Brienne found she cared rather a lot and being alone in her grief had been awful. She could hardly imagine how much worse it was for Tyrion who'd been banished North.

When they left Winterfell Brienne had no idea when they'd next venture North, or when she would see Podrick again after they left him at Casterly Rock. It occurred to Brienne she should be making the most of the time they had left rather than wasting her time alone.

* * *

The atmosphere at the dinner table was light, and Bran found himself wishing he could be part of it. For the three-eyed raven it simply wasn't possible.

Arya hadn't spared him a word after this morning, but she seemed to be in good spirits as she playfully teased Tyrion. Whatever Arya was doing appeared to have worked as the lord of Winterfell turned to the Queen for support - a pout covering his face.

"Sansa, Arya's spreading filthy lies about me and Lyon!" he said, leaning into her with pleading eyes

Bran watched his sister happily wrap her arm around him, fighting back a smile "Its jealousy my love"

"You aren't fooling anyone Lannister" said Arya, as Brienne tried to stifle her amusement "You use Sansa's oil when you wash your hair - and Lyon's used it too!"

"Lies" he protested

"Lyon was looking awfully fluffy the other day" pressed Arya

"Who knows what he gets up to when we're not around?" said Tyrion, his face bright red

"If you're jealous Arya, you can borrow my oil too - gods know you could use it" said Sansa, lifting an eyebrow at her younger sister

"Oh no" said Arya "Just because Tyrion lets you play with his hair doesn't mean I will"

Tyrion shrugged "It's only fair Sansa enjoys it now"

Sansa brushed her hand through his curly hair "Why's that?"

"Dwarfs go bald eventually" he stated, casually sipping his water "it's a common fact"

The corner of Bran's mouth turned upwards at the look of abject horror on Sansa's face, just before laughter rang out from Arya and Brienne. Tyrion's face cracked into a smile at his wife's expression.

"Aww Sansa…you look like someone told you the world's ending" choked out Arya

"It's not true?" asked Sansa, glancing hopefully around the table

Pod took pity on her, shaking his head "That's not a fact"

"That's a cruel trick" said Sansa, narrowing her eyes playfully at her husband

Tyrion's face was a picture of innocence "Would you not appreciate my baldness wife?"

She kissed his forehead "I love you, hair or not - but let's try and keep your hair"

"Arya had a scheme to shave it off last week just to see the look on your face" he confided

"Arya!"

The younger Stark shrugged "It would have amused me"

"Speaking for the hair challenged" said Ser Davos "you get used to it"

Bran contented himself to watch as the group continued bantering and teasing each other. When they'd first arrived dinners had been formal and cold affairs; fraught with biting words. Now things had settled. The guests had left, Bronn was gone - and Bran was silent. The three-eyed raven knew he'd contributed to the unease that hung over the group, and for that reason he resigned himself to watch - they deserved one night.

His eyes moved to Tyrion; smiling at his wife and engaging in the fun. The last Lannister would never be the man he was - too much had changed him. Bronn believed all that remained of Tyrion was a shadow, but Bran knew that wasn't true; this Tyrion was far more real than the man Bronn had known. Stripping away his home and titles had left him vulnerable, but he was where he was meant to be now.

Sansa had changed too. The Queen of ice was a mask that Sansa knew when to wear and when to take off, rather than a way of life.

It was as his eyes moved to Arya that something stirred in the pit of his stomach. Bran Stark had always been close to Arya, but not anymore - it had to be different now. What he'd said to her this morning had been cruel, but it was also a warning;

_'Don't expect me to be who I was'_

The great hall was warm and full of life; filled with a joy long absent. It was strange then, that Bran Stark felt nothing but cold.

* * *

"Bran was rather quiet tonight" said Tyrion, pushing back the furs to climb into the bed next to his wife

"A little" she said "though it could have been a wise choice. Arya was furious with him this morning"

Settling into the soft bed, Tyrion turned on his side to face Sansa. The Queen was propped up on her elbow, her long red hair falling loosely around her face.

"Yes, I noticed she was ignoring him tonight - at the expense of mocking me"

The Queen rolled her eyes, a grin tugging at her mouth "Don't listen to her my love, you can use my oil on your hair any time"

Heat crept into Tyrion's face "You said you liked it soft"

"Oh, so this was for my benefit?" she teased, reaching out to stroke her hand through his messy curls

"I aim to please wife"

"You most certainly do"

Tyrion leaned forwards, pressing his mouth onto Sansa's - his heart picking up pace as she eagerly kissed him back. He would never get used to this; how this woman's eyes could hold such love for a creature like him. Tyrion was quickly losing himself in the kiss when Sansa's hand gently grasped his shoulder moving him back. Instantly he stopped his advances, his eyes searching for hers in panic that he'd done something wrong.

Sansa was smiling as she quickly kissed his forehead, stilling his panic before it developed.

"I believe we have unfinished business from this morning" she said, rubbing her thumb in circles on his shoulder

"We do?"

"Oh, yes" she said, trailing her hand down to the buttons on his bed shirt

Understanding dawned at what she was saying, followed swiftly by embarrassment "I still feel rather silly about that. You're right of course - I haven't become plump overnight"

"You seemed quite convinced this morning" she said, toying with the top button

"My body was awake but I fear my mind was somewhat sleepy - thank you for being so patient"

"You never need to thank me Tyrion"

"Even when I'm being stupid?"

"You could never be stupid" she said, her slender fingers opening the top button and brushing against his chest

"Ridiculous?" he tried "Pathetic?"

Sansa shook her head "None of those things. You're a little lion who lacks confidence and is in need of educating"

"Oh?"

Sansa nodded "You seem to harbour many false beliefs about yourself my love, and it simply won't do"

A thrill went through Tyrion as Sansa's hand wandered to the second button on his night shirt "It won't?"

"Not at all. You're mine now and I will convince you how wonderful you are"

Sansa moved closer, gently guiding him to lie on his back as she leaned over him. A flicker of nerves went through him as he realised Sansa intended to focus on him tonight.

"You don't need to convince me" he said, as her hands moved down the buttons of his night shift until it hung open

Sansa ran her hand down his chest and across his ribs, her touch unleashing a wave of excitement in his lower region.

"I'd like to convince you" she said, her eyes searching his face for permission

Tyrion was torn. Both of the times they'd joined in the bed he'd made sure the focus was on Sansa; that she'd be too distracted to pay much attention to his deformed body on top of hers. Hesitantly he found her earnest blue eyes – no trace of deception in them. Sansa wasn't going to mock him; she wanted his trust.

"We don't have to do anything if you're uncomfortable" she promised, seeing his hesitation

Tyrion forced a smile, trying to relax into the pillows "It's alright; I'm quite willing if you are"

"You seem nervous"

"I am" he admitted

Sansa moved her hands from his open night shirt to cup his face, her lips pressing against his forehead "Don't be. We'll go as far as you're willing and no further – I promise"

Tyrion's stomach twisted at Sansa's misunderstanding; his nerves had nothing to do with Sansa taking control and everything to do with being under her scrutiny. His wife may have seen him naked several times but she was normally well distracted – that wouldn't be the case if they continued.

"I don't doubt that" he said, struggling for the words "it's just...you're the only woman I've been with that hasn't been paid to lie to me"

He cringed at his own words, and Sansa's face creased in puzzlement. Before he could think of another way of phrasing it, understanding bloomed in Sansa's eyes.

"I'm a very lucky woman then" she said "I'll be the first to tell you the truth about yourself"

Did he really want to hear the truth? For so many years he'd paid whores to tell him the things no-one else would; that he was handsome, good and kind – that he wasn't a monster. A lifetime of scorn urged him to stop; to not let Sansa near the hole in his heart. Yet a tiny piece of him relented; Sansa wouldn't hurt him – she promised to love him.

Tyrion nodded, relinquishing himself to Sansa's control. The smile that lit up her face was enough to make the risk worthwhile. Aside from his own fears, he supposed this might help Sansa too. It had become glaringly obvious to Tyrion over the last two nights that Sansa had been used like a dog in the marriage bed. While she seemed to trust he wouldn't hurt her, she also seemed genuinely surprised that he didn't ram into her the moment his cock came to life. It had given him some pride knowing he'd at the very least given her a pleasant experience of sex – that Sansa had enjoyed it enough to want to repeat it. The abuse she'd suffered with Ramsay had cast a dark cloud over Sansa's idea of intimacy, and it thrilled Tyrion she was keen to learn.

As her hands began to guide his arms out of his bed shirt Tyrion knew he had to let Sansa do this; that he should let her explore his body as freely as she'd allowed him to. Besides if Sansa could trust him after all she'd suffered, there was no reason he couldn't do the same.

"Now where did we get up to this morning?" she mused, settling him against the pillows

"I believe you were examining my so-called fat"

"Oh, yes – if I recall there was a pesky shift disrupting my examination"

"How unfortunate"

Sansa's smile widened, her fingers drawing a lazy circle on his chest "Not to worry my love, I'll be very thorough this time"

* * *

The cell he'd spent weeks in was devoid of natural light, but Grey Worm had soon learned how to tell what time of day it was. The Winterfell dungeon ran to the same schedule every day, with very little variation in the routine.

It was what made the soft footsteps creeping down the corridor in the middle of the night all the more noticeable.

The faintest flicker of light danced along the walls as the footsteps grew closer. Shifting upright on the sparse bed, Grey Worm was instantly alert. His whole life had shaped him into a weapon and instincts would never die.

Grey Worm's chains clinked as he stood to see the visitor. If this was death, he would greet it on his feet. He tilted his head in confusion as the visitor stood before his cell. The torch he carried was small, casting only a small glow around the area - though it illuminated a strangers face.

"Who are you?" he asked, taking in the man's scraggy red hair pulled up into a loose bun.

"Doesn't matter"

The man was young, his voice betraying his youth. Grey Worm stepped forwards, his dark eyes scanning over the man's uniform with the direwolf sigil. He was a Winterfell guard, but not one Grey Worm had seen before.

"What you want?" he asked

The man stared straight through him, and the oddest shiver crept down his back. There was something strange about this man.

"Doesn't matter what I want" he said, lifting his hand to show a set of keys "Do you still want revenge?"


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

There was a rational part of Tyrion's mind that knew Grey Worm was no longer in the dungeons, but as he searched the area he couldn't help but see him in every shadow. It wasn't often he relived that part of the Wolfswood, but when he did the hatred burning in his former friends eyes hurt as much as the spear thrust that had carved him open.

Tyrion forced himself to continue searching the dungeon. Sansa had been reluctant enough to let him leave their chambers when the bells rang and if she saw the slightest sign something was bothering him she would worry more than she already did.

In truth there wasn't much to search. For a castle of this size the dungeons were small; containing only a few cells set out side by side in the standard fashion. Heavy metal gates covered each cell and the only sources of light were the torches that burned during the day in the short corridor.

"Why are the Winterfell dungeons so small?" he asked, pushing his hand against the heavy gate that hung open on Grey Worm's cell

Sansa turned to him, her blue eyes drowning in worry "We had a couple of tower cells too, but they were destroyed during the Long Night"

"There's only one way in and out?"

"The stairs we just came down" she said, eyeing the empty chains lying on the floor.

His stomach twisted at her words. There were two guards on duty last night and neither had seen or heard anything suspicious. It was only when one of the guards had gone down to light the torches at dawn Grey Worm's disappearance was noticed. The alarm had been raised and Tyrion's blissful sleep in Sansa's arms was cut short.

"We should speak to the guards again"

Tyrion jumped as Arya's voice suddenly appeared behind him on soundless feet.

"They've told us what they know" said Tyrion

"Grey Worm couldn't have escaped without help"

Sansa moved out of the cell to join them "You mean there's a traitor"

Arya nodded sharply "The only way out is past the guards and no-one heard or saw anything. Grey Worm had help - the locks weren't picked on his chains or cell door either"

"Who would help him? The unsullied are deeply disliked in the North" said Tyrion

"I don't know" said Arya "but if there are traitors in the castle we need to find them"

"Um, Tyrion I think you should see this" called Cayn, his voice drifting through the dungeon

Wordlesssly they followed the voice to find the young man stood opposite a piece of wall between the stair case and the first cell. Tyrion didn't understand what they were looking at - it was a flat piece of wall positioned awkwardly between the steps and the cells. Someone might use it to hide in the shadows but they'd soon be discovered.

"What exactly am I looking at?" said Tyrion, joining his friend

Cayn nodded to Lyon. The golden wolf appeared to be growling at the wall, one paw scratching at it.

"What's he doing?" asked Sansa, looking over their shoulders

"I don't know" said Cayn "I was checking the other cells when I heard him scratching at the wall"

"Lyon, it's only a wall" called Tyrion

The wolf turned to him with sharp green eyes, barking in what Tyrion could only assume was disagreement. It was strange behaviour – even for Lyon. They'd brought the little wolf with them in the hopes he might get Grey Worm's scent and track him down but after getting him to sniff around the cell he'd merely wandered around.

"Did you find anything Cayn?" asked Tyrion

"No, everything's exactly as it's supposed to be" he said

Tyrion nodded, moving past his friend to join Lyon who was still scratching at the wall.

"There's nothing there" said Sansa

"The guards must have been in on it" said Arya "where are they?"

"Brice is acting captain with Alec gone" said Cayn "he's confined them to barracks for now"

"What do we know about the guards?" asked Sansa

"They're loyal your Grace, I don't think they'd help the enemy"

The conversation carried on but Tyrion focused on the wall before him. Lyon seemed oddly fixated on it and Tyrion was inclined to trust him – the direwolf had an uncanny sense for things. Tyrion crouched down, his ankle protesting the movement somewhat until he was facing the stones Lyon had scratched at. There was nothing unusual about them. They were just as age worn as the rest of the dungeons and seemingly fixed into place.

"Lyon, I do hope you're not playing a trick on me" he said, pushing his hands against the stone

The direwolf whined, lifting his nose as though offended.

Tyrion ran his hands over the stones, pressing carefully along each crack. It was only when he got to the very bottom stone that something budged. He pushed again, moving the stone back several inches until it stopped. Despite the circumstances a thrill of excitement went through him and he eagerly tried the neighbouring stones. The first he tried didn't move, but the other side did.

"Tyrion?"

He ignored Sansa as the second stone moved back several inches before stopping. They were the only two that would move, but it was hardly an escape route. Lying flat on the floor Tyrion shoved his hand into the gap. The floor was made up of large stones which disappeared under the wall, but as Tyrion's hand disappeared into a gap he realised what this was.

"Clever" he muttered, his hand closing around the mechanism buried in the side of the next stone.

He shuffled off the stone directly in front of the gap he made and reached around with his arm to reach the mechanism. Tyrion just about reached it, twisting the lever until the stone he'd just been lying on swung downwards into a passage below.

Arya swore as Tyrion looked back to see their faces.

"Did you know there was a secret passage down here?" he asked

"No" said Sansa, the colour draining from her face

"There are secret passages in Winterfell" said Arya "but I've never known of one in the dungeons"

"Good work Lyon" said Tyrion, reaching across to ruffle his friend's soft fur

"If you didn't know about it how would anyone else?" asked Cayn

Tyrion's heartbeat picked up pace as he looked into the dark passage below. Grey Worm must have escaped this way - he could be lurking in the shadows to kill him. Death had hung over Tyrion all his life and he'd done everything to avoid facing it.

A blend of anger and fear swirled in his chest - he was done hiding.

The voices of Arya and Sansa arguing over the next course of action registered distantly in his mind, but Tyrion was focused only on the newly discovered passage before him.

Manoeuvring upright Tyrion dangled his feet over the edge, casting a glance at his family before dropping into the darkness below.

"Tyrion!"

Sansa's panicked shout reached him as he dropped through the air. The drop wasn't far - no more than six feet - nonetheless his ankle groaned at the impact. Lyon had followed him and both now stood in the passage that continued for several feet beneath the wall before ending. The stone which had made up the floor was connected to hinges controlled by the lever he'd just pulled. There was likely a pulling system hidden in the wall somewhere, but Tyrion's mind was firmly on the path before him and what waited in the darkness.

He wouldn't hide anymore; if Grey Worm wanted to kill him then he'd be on his feet when death came.

He was dimly aware of Sansa calling him back, but for once his rational mind had given way to something more primitive - some baser instinct urging him to action. The passage only went several feet further forwards, but a crumbling archway stood in the back left corner and Tyrion could see the beginning of steps leading down.

The darkness engulfed Tyrion as he reached the arch. He'd made it down the second step when a hand on his shoulder jerked him to a stop.

"Forget something?"

Arya stood behind him; a torch burning in her hand. Her grey eyes looked at him curiously but she said nothing as she handed him the torch.

Scrambling sounded further back indicating Sansa and Cayn were joining them, but Tyrion had already turned back to the steps.

_'You are traitor and you will die as one'_

Grey Worm's words whispered through his mind. Tyrion had been shamed and beaten when the unsullied captain went to kill him; he didn't want to die like that – cowering on the ground.

The torch illuminated the ancient passage as he followed Lyon down the short flight of steps and out into a much wider space. Glancing around the area Tyrion realised the Winterfell dungeon wasn't so small after all.

Somehow the passage had brought them to an apparently forgotten part of the Winterfell dungeons; not dissimilar to the black cells beneath the Red Keep. The area was completely dark save the torch in Tyrion's hand, but it illuminated a corridor with four cells on either side. Unlike the ones upstairs, these were little more than cupboards covered by thick iron grilles. No dungeon was pleasant, but this hidden place had surely played witness to many horrors in Winterfell's history.

"Never thought this was down here" said Cayn, his sword in his hand as he glanced around the area

"We didn't know this was here - how could Grey Worm?" said Arya

Soft footsteps drew his attention and Tyrion moved the torch to illuminate Sansa's face as she stood beside him. The Queen was doing her best to hide it, but her face had lost all colour – her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Tyrion's heart twisted at the sight. He'd come down here to face his own monsters, but Sansa had hers too. Winterfell may be her home but it had once been her prison. Did she see Ramsay's face in every shadow as he saw his tormentors?

The guilt for scaring Sansa quickly flushed the recklessness from his system. What was he thinking? Charging down here alone – he didn't even have his sword. Armed or not Grey Worm would easily kill him.

Tyrion reached out, offering his hand to Sansa.

The Queen quickly accepted, her fingers shaking as he closed his hand around hers.

"I'm sorry" he said quietly, squeezing her hand

Sansa gave him a small smile, tightening her grip "This must be how Grey Worm escaped"

"How do we know he's not still here?" asked Cayn

Tyrion shook his head "Lyon would have noticed if someone was here"

"True" said Cayn, his face relaxing somewhat "He did bite two of his fingers off"

"There must be another way out" said Arya, turning needle in her hand "how in the seven hells did anyone know about this?"

"When we recapture Grey Worm we'll ask him before he loses his head" said Sansa "let's find the exit"

Sansa never ceased to amaze Tyrion. Despite her unease at entering an unknown part of the castle and the worry he'd caused her, the Queen let none of it distract from their objective. Regal, graceful and highly intelligent – Sansa was truly a Queen.

They proceeded at a slower pace with Tyrion holding the torch in one hand and Sansa clutching his other. Arya had taken up position just in front of them with Cayn dropping behind to guard their backs. The row of prisons wasn't long and if Tyrion had to guess he'd say it had been abandoned for decades if not centuries. The single torch only illuminated so much but Tyrion recognised several sets of old fashioned restraints and torture implements that contrasted sharply with the more modern dungeons they'd just come from.

Fortunately the exit was easier to find than the entrance. After the row of cells the passage curved to the left and an already open door where Lyon stood with his tail wagging. While the dungeon itself appeared to have been untouched for many years the door hadn't fared so well – the lock hung off the door as if it had been forced. As Tyrion brought the torch closer he realised it hadn't been that difficult; lack of upkeep had left the wooden door cracked and rotting.

Sansa nodded to her sister and Arya followed Lyon through the open door and onto a stair case. It was unnaturally narrow as they wound their way upwards emerging into a long passage with a low ceiling.

There was no natural light coming into the passage, leading Tyrion to believe they were still underground. Varys had once shown him some of the secret passages in the Red Keep and they had a similar build to this – long and narrow passages that ran parallel to a normal corridor.

"It's narrow up here, single file" ordered Arya, holding needle ahead of her

Sansa's hand tensed around his at the prospect of letting go, sending a jolt of guilt through his heart. Since coming to Winterfell Tyrion had noticed that Sansa rarely strayed from the same few places. He'd seen first hand how nervous she was when he took her into the village for the surprise dinner. No matter how she tried to hide it behind a stoic mask Tyrion knew there was a pool of vulnerability bubbling just below the surface. It made Sansa's courage in following her reckless husband all the more impressive. Nevertheless it was too late to turn back - all Tyrion could do now was try to ease his wife's fears.

The Queen was forced to crouch because of the low ceiling and Tyrion took the opportunity to kiss her cheek, gently slipping his hand out of hers.

"I knew I'd eventually drag you down to my level" he said, moving just in front of her with the torch outstretched

Sansa rolled her eyes "You couldn't resist"

"It's not often I get to tell tall people jokes"

"Enjoy it while it lasts"

Tyrion grinned at her "I intend to. Watch you don't hit your head my dear - it's rather precious to me"

The flicker of the torch was just enough to illuminate the small smile on Sansa's face.

"Ow" complained Cayn rubbing his head as he crouched down behind Sansa "What about my precious head?"

"Come on" urged Arya "there's fresh air further up"

With Arya in the lead and Tyrion holding the torch behind her they made their way down the passage. While the passage was perfectly sized for Tyrion he couldn't imagine many people making use of it - the awkward access and cramped space was likely the reason it had been seemingly forgotten.

They were about half way along when Tyrion felt the first trickle of fresh air brush past him. As fascinating as he was finding this exploration he could almost feel Sansa's nerves. The Queen made no complaint though her hand hadn't left his back since they started moving forwards. As interesting as the long forgotten passages were the knowledge that Grey Worm had likely used them to escape sobered his enthusiasm.

At some point in time the passage must have opened into a staircase or exit of some kind, but as they reached the end all that met them was a pile of rubble.

"I can imagine a tower once stood here" said Tyrion, passing the torch over the broken stone

Sansa leaned over his shoulder "Winterfell has stood for eight thousand years - there could have been anything here"

Arya nodded "It's been built up a lot over that time. Father always said the castle had secret passages that had been long forgotten. It was a game when we were children, to try and find them"

"I never played that game" whispered Sansa, a hint of longing in her voice

"I did" said Arya, her voice taking a similar tone "Bran and I found one in the crypts once"

The grief of the Stark girls fell over the passage like winter itself; chilling the air so much Tyrion feared the torch may go out. Finding a secret like this in their family home had somehow brought them back to a time when this would have been a game, rather than tracking a dangerous prisoner.

"Um, not that my back is aching or anything, but how do we get out?" called Cayn, shuffling awkwardly in the passage behind them

The question snapped Sansa and Arya from the melancholy that had taken hold of them, returning their focus to the current problem.

"Here" said Arya, taking the torch from Tyrion as she scrambled up the rubble.

They were surely close to some kind of exit - the air was much cooler here than it had been at the start of the passage. Most of the passage was blocked by broken stones and debris, but there was a narrow gap that Arya slipped through – as if someone had already been there. Lyon had beaten them to it and was already sat atop a chunk of stone, his green eyes locked onto a grille set in the wall.

"Lyon's found something" he called, directing Arya to where the wolf was looking

"This must be how Grey Worm escaped" breathed Sansa, resting her chin on his shoulder

"He must have had help" said Tyrion "He was in chains, behind a locked door and somehow found a passage no-one else knew about"

"The question is who" said Sansa "who would have such knowledge of Winterfell?"

"I found it" called Arya, her face grim in the torchlight "I hope you're up for a climb big sister"

It wasn't so much of a climb as it was a crawl.

Faced with the prospect of clambering through a tiny, filthy space Tyrion had offered to take Sansa back the way they'd came. As curious as he was to see this through he was well aware his wife might be at her limit.

No-one could ever say Sansa wasn't a true Northerner. The Queen's nose had wrinkled in disgust as Cayn swung the iron grille open, exposing a tunnel little more than a crawl space - but she'd refused to back down.

It was only when they'd crawled half way along the tunnel, and sweat was trickling down his back that Tyrion realised two things. The first was his curiosity would be the end of him, and the second that he should have been behind and not in front of Sansa as they crawled.

"Cayn, why are you behind my wife?" he called

"Um, because I went last"

"You expect me to believe it's a coincidence you went last with the Queen in such an undignified position?"

"Did you want to go last?" he called back

"How could I possibly go last? I'd have never reached this tunnel without help - it was nearly six foot up in the wall"

"I'm confused" admitted Cayn

Arya's snorting laugh echoed back to them from the front of the procession "Tyrion's just realised you've got one of his favourite views"

"I'm sure Cayn knows better than to look up the Queen's skirts" said Sansa, a hint of threat in her tone

"Of course your Grace" stammered Cayn, finally catching on to their meaning "I can't see anything – I swear"

"Best keep it that way" said Tyrion "or Lyon will be having a large dinner"

The wolf barked further up the tunnel; as if he'd heard the word dinner and taken it as a promise.

Tyrion's body protested every movement as he dragged himself forwards "Forgive me wife, I should have gone behind to defend your honour"

He couldn't see Sansa's face but he could almost picture the smile on her delicate features "Don't worry love I'm rather enjoying my view"

"You like?" he teased

"You're quite alluring from this angle"

"Gods, I think I'm going to be sick" grumbled Arya "Just remember that if I vomit you have to crawl through it"

Tyrion would gladly crawl through Arya's vomit if his teasing had managed to ease Sansa's nerves. The Queen was a formidable woman, but he knew this was well out of her comfort zone. However the years had changed her, Sansa would always be a lady at heart.

He couldn't decide whether the tunnel was long or they were just making slow progress – either way he was immensely grateful when the first strands of daylight appeared ahead of them.

"What can you see?" called Sansa as their line came to a stop. Arya crawled up beside Lyon to examine whatever lay ahead of them.

"There's a grille above us, but it's covered in snow and it's stuck" she replied

He pulled himself forwards a little more to see what Arya was looking at. It appeared the crawl space ended in a short incline with a grille of tightly crossed bars covering the exit. Flickers of light could be seen through the gaps, but snow was obscuring most of it.

"Look for a lever of some kind" said Tyrion "it's possible there's a release switch somewhere"

A few minutes and several swear words later Arya appeared to have found what they were looking for. A stone in the side of the tunnel proved to be their saviour. Much like the ones Tyrion had found in the dungeon, the stone could be pushed back several inches to reveal a lever embedded in the adjacent stone.

"Got it" she said, lying flat beneath the grille as she reached for the lever. With no room to join her, Tyrion could only wait with Sansa and Cayn behind him to see if it worked.

In hindsight it should have occurred to one of them that the grille would open inwards. As Arya freed the mechanism the grille swung downwards, unleashing a torrent of snow on Arya and Lyon.

"Are you alright?" called Sansa, safely tucked behind him as some of the snow splattered against his face and buried Arya

The younger Stark drew in a deep breath, wiping the snow off her face "There better be someone to kill on the other side of this"

"Lyon!" called Tyrion, unable to see his little friend beneath the heap of snow

A sad bark followed by scrabbling paws echoed through the tunnel as the direwolf squeezed past Arya to Tyrion. The direwolf's golden fur was damp, his ears drooping.

"Are you ok?" asked Tyrion

Lyon whined, nuzzling his face with his damp nose.

"You've worked so hard today" said Tyrion, reaching out to awkwardly stroke his friend in the cramped space "I'll get you a nice treat later, ok?"

His tail wagged as he licked Tyrion's face.

"I appreciate your concern big brother" said Arya, shaking out her hair

"I'll get you a treat too"

"Did it work?" called Cayn

"Yes" said Arya, crawling forwards to the now open grille "Let's get out of here"

As Tyrion crawled up the incline, with the snow seeping through his breeches he thought it might be time for a nap. It was only mid-morning but the unexpected exertion had left his ankle throbbing and the rest of him aching.

Arya had lifted Lyon out before following herself, leaving Tyrion to clamber out after them. His mouth went dry as he realised the grille was located just outside the outer castle walls. This had been a direct route out of the dungeons for Grey Worm - but how could he have known about it?

Tyrion squinted in the morning sun as he studied where they'd emerged. The grille was positioned tight to the east wall of Winterfell, with the trees of the Wolfswood covering the landscape in the distance.

It was as Tyrion reached down to help Sansa out of the passage that Brice's booming voice reached him "Bloody hell Lannister, what've ya been doing?"

As Sansa straightened up beside him, he turned to see Brice, Brienne and several guards heading back towards the castle - a man hanging limply between two guards.

"What happened?" demanded Arya, needle already in her hand as she stalked towards them

Tyrion's stomach churned at the sight of the guards, but he turned to Sansa first. The Queen's gown was ripped and filthy - covered in grime, and damp from the snow. Her red hair had fared no better with bits of debris and dirt caught in it. If Tyrion hadn't felt guilty before, he did now.

"Are you alright?" he asked, taking her hand in his and rubbing at the coldness that met him

Sansa's face was weary as she nodded "I'm fine"

Cayn staggered out a moment later looking just as bedraggled as the rest of them "Alec chose a fine time to leave"

"And you thought you would miss all the excitement by staying here" said Tyrion

Sansa slipped her hand from between his, leaving a strange emptiness behind. He glanced up at his wife, searching for her eyes.

"Let's see what they found" she said, offering him a half-smile

It was as they approached the group Tyrion noticed the man hanging between the guards wore a Winterfell uniform.

Arya turned to them, her mouth set in a hard line "It's not good news"

"Your Grace" greeted Brice inclining his head. The other guards followed suit and Tyrion didn't miss the curious glances at the Queen's appearance.

"What happened?" she asked, nodding towards the unconscious guard

Brice shifted on the spot, his face grim "I set men all over the castle looking for Grey Worm and took some outside to search the surrounding area - Ser Brienne joined us"

The lady knight nodded "I was checking the tree line when I heard screaming"

"A group of us rushed over and we found the lad clutching his head and shouting all over the place" continued Brice

Tyrion stepped around Sansa, examining the guard more closely. He knew all of the guards, and Darron was easy to recognise by his red hair hanging in a scruffy bun. Darron was only young - hardly a man grown.

"Was he attacked?" asked Tyrion

Brice and Brienne exchanged glances, and something twisted in Tyrion's stomach.

"We thought that, but the lad's not got a mark on him. He was ranting and raving…and he had these"

Reluctantly Brice withdrew a set of keys from his pocket, handing them to Sansa.

"He freed Grey Worm" said the Queen, her voice lacking emotion

Tyrion shook his head, locking eyes with Brice "That can't be right. Darron's a good lad - why would he help Grey Worm?"

The older man looked pained as he answered "I don't know, but he confessed"

Sansa's eyes narrowed "What did he say?"

"He was talking nonsense, but he kept saying 'why did I do it?' and 'I freed him' - he was crying and shaking. Kept complaining about his head before he passed out"

"I don't think Darron would do something like this" said Cayn "How would he know about the hidden passage?"

Tyrion watched the indecision flickering in Sansa's eyes. Everything pointed to Darron being guilty - he had the keys and several people had heard him confess despite how out of sorts he'd seemed. It was more than enough to sentence the man for treason and execute him. Lyon was sniffing at Darron, his ears back as though confused.

He reached out tugging at Sansa's sleeve "I don't believe Darron would betray you - it's oddly out of character. Cayn is right too; how would he know of the passages?"

Sansa was silent, absorbing all the information they had and coming to a decision. It was situations like this when Sansa's icy detachment was useful. Cersei and Daenerys as well as many lords would have already judged the man guilty, but Sansa was logical enough to see the gaps in their knowledge.

"Take him to Wolkan" she decided "have him checked over and keep him under guard. When he's awake we will find out the truth"

Tyrion relaxed slightly at Sansa's decision. He wasn't sure why, but something about this situation seemed wrong - like they were missing a piece of the puzzle.

"What about Grey Worm?" asked Arya, crossing her arms

"No sign of him" said Brice "but seeing as we found Darron out here…"

"Grey Worm's likely gone" finished Tyrion

"Send out as many guards as we can spare" said Sansa, her hand curling into a fist beside him "The priority is finding Grey Worm"

"Aye, your Grace" said Brice

Brienne was looking between them and the castle "Where did you all come from?"

"It's a long story" said Sansa, grimacing as she looked at her torn gown "Suffice to say we found where they got out of the castle"

"Don't suppose Bran's offered any insight?" asked Arya

"He looked half asleep when I went to him this morning" said Brienne "I asked if we could join the search and he agreed, but said nothing else"

"Typical" said Arya, turning on her heel and stalking back towards the castle

"Pod and Ser Davos have been helping the guards search inside the castle" said Brienne

"Thank you" said Sansa "all of your help is appreciated"

As the group turned back towards Winterfell, Tyrion's gaze turned to the vast expanse of the North that surrounded them. Grey Worm was no longer in the castle – of that he was certain.

A flicker of fear stirred within Tyrion, replacing the recklessness that had driven him to confront his enemy earlier on.

Robin, Gawan, Grey Worm – wherever he went someone always wanted him dead. Now all three of his enemies were out there; free to hurt him and those he loved.

* * *

Five minutes - that was all Sansa needed.

The warmth of the bath seeped through Sansa, chasing the chill from her bones and cleansing the filth from her body.

The Queen leaned back against the tub, wishing the bath could so easily relax her mind.

She'd been sound asleep with Tyrion when the bells rang this morning, followed quickly by Cayn banging on their chamber door. Of all the things she'd feared it might be, Sansa had never considered Grey Worm had escaped. The unsullied captain had been their prisoner for two months - in that time he had rarely spoken or moved. Whatever peace Sansa had been enjoying had ended with the bells, plunging her into a nightmare where the man who'd come so close to killing Tyrion was loose in the castle.

Her first reaction had been to confine Tyrion to their chambers with guards until Grey Worm was caught, but her husband had quickly ended that idea.

"There's not a chance in hell I'm hiding in here" he'd said, hurrying to get dressed along with her

"You're his target"

"I'm not afraid of him"

"Tyrion please, just for a little while - until I find out what happened" she'd pleaded "let me protect you"

"I'm the lord of Winterfell, aren't I?" he'd said, gazing up at her "You expect me to hide while there's an escaped prisoner in the castle?"

In the end she'd relented. It was fear driving her decisions rather than rational thought, and Tyrion did have a point - for the lord of Winterfell to hide would be frowned upon by the Northerners. For years Sansa had let fear make her decisions, manifesting in her controlling behaviours - she'd resolved to move past that and that meant doing things differently.

Sansa sank deeper into the bath, bringing her hands up to wash the grime from her hair. Never had she expected to find a secret tunnel in the dungeon, let alone explore it. As soon as she realised Tyrion had gone into the passage she hadn't thought twice about following him. While Sansa suspected there were many contributing factors that had led to her husband's rash decision she knew the main one straightaway. It was the same urge that had eaten away at him during the long night; a desire to prove himself.

Even all those months ago she'd seen his drinking and complaints in the crypts for what it was. Since then she'd become far more familiar with her husband's insecurities.

Sansa's chin dipped to her chest, her shoulders slumping. She knew how insecure Tyrion could be - ordering him to stay in their chambers had likely hurt his pride.

The Queen sighed; she'd spent most of last night trying to convince Tyrion how wonderful he was - only to damage his confidence in her fear this morning. He'd given Sansa free reign over him last night and she'd taken her time to explore him; hoping to soothe some of the self-hatred that always lurked in his eyes when he was undressed. It had taken a while for him to relax and he'd seemed rather embarrassed when she turned her attentions to his private area, but in the end a look of bliss had spread over his face that warmed Sansa from head to toes. She'd fell asleep with her head on his chest and his arms around her. How could such contentment turn into a nightmare so quickly?

It was with great reluctance Sansa left the comforting warmth of the bath. As Queen she had to face her responsibilities, no matter how tempting it was to hide.

With Brice and Brienne taking charge of the prisoner, Sansa and Tyrion had returned to their chambers to freshen up. Their clothes were in tatters, covered in Gods knew what from the filthy tunnels. To make matters worse Tyrion was guilt-ridden for what they'd experienced. Her poor husband had fussed over her all the way back to their chambers; offering to wash her hair, find her clean clothes or anything else she needed. She'd gently declined his offers, telling him she'd take a bath in the other room and encouraging him to do the same. It was impossible to miss the flicker of hurt in his eyes - the fear that he'd upset her and somehow lost her love.

Sansa would never stop trying to understand her husband. There was nothing in the world that could make her stop loving him, nor was she angry with him. So much had happened this morning; she just needed a moment alone to process it. Just five minutes without her crown or expectations. Part of Sansa knew she shouldn't have pushed Tyrion away when he was so obviously lost in his guilt and wanted to help her – but changing her behaviours would take time. Having someone to rely on and confide in was something she'd missed since leaving Winterfell all those years ago and it was something Tyrion had very little experience of himself. Exploring that aspect of their marriage was a learning curve for both of them.

Knowing that Tyrion's anger at himself was likely growing with every minute she was in here Sansa quickly dried herself off, squeezing the dampness from her hair and slipping into a fresh gown. Her eyes fell on the ruined clothes lying on the floor. It had taken years but she finally understood Arya's need for breeches – gowns just weren't always practical.

True to form, when Sansa pushed open the door to their chambers Tyrion was pacing anxiously in front of the hearth. As soon as he saw her he hurried over, his golden hair hanging damply around his worried face.

"Sansa, are you alright?" he asked, gazing up at her

"I'm fine sweetheart" she said, offering him a smile

He nodded, though he didn't seem convinced "I thought you might be hungry so I had lunch brought up"

"Sounds lovely"

Tyrion hesitated a moment before reaching for her hand, but she closed her hand tightly around his hoping to reassure him. When they'd been exploring the passages Tyrion had been upbeat and playful - doing his best to make her comfortable. Now they were back in the safety of their chambers his guilt had bubbled to the surface. She let him guide her to the chaise where two bowls of steaming soup sat waiting along with fresh bread. The hearth was blazing as if it was the middle of the night in the depths of winter, rather than midday in the beginning of spring.

As soon as she sat on the chaise Tyrion handed her the soup.

"Is there anything I can get you?" he asked

"No, thank you"

"Oh, I nearly forgot" he said, his eyes widening as he hurried off to the bed

He'd only taken a few steps when she noticed his limp. It had improved a lot over the last few weeks, but it was far more noticeable now than it had been this morning. She didn't see Tyrion return until she felt a heavy blanket being draped over her shoulders.

"Tyrion…" she started

"It was cold and wet in those passages; you need to warm up"

"I'm fine…"

He hobbled in front of her again, tiredness hanging over his face as he watched her nervously "Do you need to see the Maester? There were stones and all sorts littering that crawl space - if you've any injuries at all-"

"Tyrion!" she said, stopping his rambling.

He flinched at her tone, his gaze turning downwards. As touched as she was by his concern, Sansa knew it was being driven by misplaced guilt. Whatever rashness had taken hold of him in the dungeons had long gone, his rational mind clearly catching up with him. Their underground excursion had taken its toll on Tyrion. It was easy to believe he'd fully recovered from the Wolfswood and his subsequent illness but this morning's activity appeared to have tired him out - his eyes were heavy and his clear limp were tell-tale signs he'd reached the end of his endurance.

"Sweetheart, I'm fine. Please, come eat with me" she said, patting the space next to her

Indecision flickered through his eyes before he picked up his own bowl and joined her. Sansa ate her lunch in silence, hoping Tyrion would start the conversation. There was something weighing on his mind but she didn't want to push Tyrion to share if he wasn't ready. Nevertheless she would need to start the conversation if he didn't. This guilt wouldn't be allowed to cling to her husband. No matter how long he'd been at Winterfell or how close they became, Tyrion seemed terrified of doing something wrong. As if making a mistake or breaking some imagined rule would be the beginning of the end.

It was when they'd both finished eating and put their empty bowls on the table that Tyrion finally turned to her.

"Sansa, I'm so sorry" he said "I shouldn't have gone into that passage. What I did was so stupid – I never meant to put you or Arya or Cayn in danger"

"You've done nothing wrong"

Tyrion shook his head "You told me to stay in our chambers; I should have obeyed you my Queen"

"Stop that" she said cupping his face, and drawing his sad green eyes to meet hers "You're my husband – not my servant. As lord of Winterfell you were well within your rights to investigate a missing prisoner"

"I worried you" he said "I know you're afraid to leave the castle...I never meant to put you in such a situation"

Sansa's brow furrowed "I'm not afraid to leave the castle"

"Of course" he agreed, desperately trying to backtrack "I only meant you're nervous in unfamiliar places"

Was that true? Just the other day Arya had said she was afraid of change. She was Queen in the North and this was her home – she couldn't be afraid.

_'I'll always be part of you'_ whispered Ramsay

A shiver crept down Sansa's spine. This may be her home but it had also been her prison. Her childhood bed chambers had been her married room with Ramsay. The place she'd always felt safest had played host to her worst nightmares. When she'd reclaimed Winterfell with Jon she'd had the room turned into storage. Never again could she feel safe there.

"I'm not making this any better, am I?" said Tyrion

Sansa brushed her thumb over his cheek "No...you're right. I just never really thought about it like that"

The more she considered it Tyrion's words were true. She rarely left the castle and even within it she stayed in the rooms she felt safest – avoiding the lesser used rooms and the lower levels. It wasn't intentional. Sansa hadn't made a conscious decision to hide, but somehow that's what she'd ended up doing. She may no longer be Ramsay's prisoner, but his ghost was still holding her captive. The Queen swallowed thickly; that would have to change.

For now she returned her focus to her husband, leaning forwards to kiss his forehead.

"My love, what's troubling you so?" she asked softly

"Nothing...I'm just worried about you"

Sansa bit the inside of her cheek, considering how to approach this. This wasn't the first time she'd noticed Tyrion's guilt whenever he thought he made a mistake. The few times he'd shown his anger over her bedding of him or spoken up for himself against others he'd been guilt-ridden immediately after - as if afraid he would be punished. At first she'd thought it was simply unease in his new home following his exile from the six kingdoms, but as the weeks wore on the behaviour never changed - no matter how comfortable he seemed.

"You know this is your home, don't you?" she asked

"Of course"

"You know I love you?"

Tyrion's eyes brightened for a moment "As I love you"

"Do you feel safe here?"

"Sansa, why are you asking me this?"

He moved back slightly as if to pull his face from her hands, but Sansa tightened her grip - gently tracing the scar that cut across his cheek.

"I'm asking because there must be a reason"

"A reason for what?"

"Why you're so afraid to make a mistake"

"I'm not afraid" he said, swallowing thickly

Sansa shook her head "Whenever you think you've done something wrong or upset me somehow you're guilt-ridden. Sweetheart, you apologise for everything - no matter how small"

"I was wrong to go into that passage. It was stupid" he insisted

"Tyrion, I'll admit you scared me but it was hardly a major crime. Without you and Lyon we'd have never found that passage - if anything I was wrong to try and keep you in our chambers" she said "I've made so many terrible mistakes with you, and you've forgiven me every time; even when I don't deserve it. As soon as you think you've made a mistake, you act as though I'm going to have you beaten or thrown out. Are you afraid of me?"

"Of course not!" he protested, panic flooding his green eyes

"It's alright, you can tell me if you are; I'd understand"

"I'm not afraid of you" he insisted "You make me feel safer than I ever have in my life"

Sansa's heart fluttered at his words "Good - all I want is for you to be happy. Please let me help you"

Tyrion bit his lip, indecision warring in his green eyes. As much as Sansa disliked pushing Tyrion to share his thoughts, this behaviour couldn't continue. This was their home and she wanted her husband to feel safe no matter what he did.

"The next time you fail me, will be the last time you fail me" said Tyrion softly

"Who said that?" she asked, her brow furrowing

"Daenerys" he said, a haunted look creeping into his eyes "I made too many mistakes. Just before we moved on Kings Landing she said that to me; after she burned Varys alive"

Sansa's blood turned to ice in her veins.

"I failed one Queen, I don't want to do the same again" he continued, his gaze turning downwards "Daenerys turned on me at the end…I don't want to turn you against me too"

"Oh Tyrion" she said, letting go of his face to pull him into her arms "That could never happen"

"Daenerys was my friend; I believed in her and in the end she would have killed me" he said, dropping his head on her shoulder "You were right Sansa - I was afraid of her"

Somehow the truth made everything clearer, shining a light on Tyrion's behaviour. He'd believed in Daenerys and she'd turned on him when things went wrong. How could he not fear the same might happen again?

"Daenerys was unstable my love. You did your best to help her, from what I saw she took no-one's advice"

"I don't want to let you down"

"Never" she promised, kissing his damp hair "I'll never turn against you Tyrion - not for anything in the world"

They stayed like that for a little while, with Tyrion huddling against her as she rubbed his back. It was at her order Tyrion had been banished; losing his home and titles - and any security they'd provided. Coming North had surely seemed like a final chance; that any mistakes here would be his end. It was little wonder he'd feared any misstep.

Eventually Tyrion pulled back, though Sansa gave him a final squeeze before letting him go. His face was tinged red as he met her gaze "I truly am sorry Sansa"

"No more apologies" she said firmly, offering him a smile "This is your home my love; no-one will hurt you here. You can make all the mistakes in the world and it won't change anything"

"Even if I do stupid things?"

"If I punished people for stupid things, Arya would have been dead and buried years ago"

"As long as I'm not as bad as Arya" he said, a smile crossing his face "Thank you Sansa"

"Any time. If anything's bothering you at all, you can always tell me" she said, running her hand through Tyrion's still wet hair "Now, can you tell me something?"

"Of course"

"How much oil did you put in your hair? I can smell it from here"

Redness crept up Tyrion's neck "I know you like it soft, and I was apologising…so I thought more would be better"

"I see. You hoped to win my forgiveness with extra fluffy hair?"

"Lyon thought it was a good idea"

Her eyes wandered to the direwolf lying on a heap of blankets in front of the hearth. Much like her husband his golden hair appeared to be damp.

"Did you wash Lyon?" she asked, scrunching her nose in confusion. Direwolves cleaned themselves.

"Well, he was filthy from the tunnels - tired too"

"How did you find time to have a bath and wash Lyon? You had lunch brought up as well. I wasn't gone that long"

Tyrion rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to meet her eyes "I wanted to be ready in case you needed me for anything…certain tasks may have been combined"

"You shared your bath with Lyon, didn't you?"

"A time saving measure"

Sansa couldn't hide the grin spreading over her face at the image of Tyrion and Lyon sharing a bath. She could almost imagine them both sat in the tub, hurrying to clean themselves - her oil flowing freely between them.

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness my love, but you may need to rub the oil into your hair more" she said, tugging on a sticky curl

"It's possible I got carried away"

She leaned forwards kissing his forehead "Let me handle it"

"Very well" he agreed "I'm in your hands wife"

As they moved from the chaise Sansa searched her husband's face, relieved to find the guilt had left him. Knowing what had happened with Daenerys certainly explained his guilt-ridden behaviour, but it did leave Sansa wondering what had prompted him to confront Grey Worm in the first place. While she was quite sure part of it had been to prove himself she doubted it was the whole reason. However curious she was, Sansa wouldn't push him for more answers. He'd clearly carried what Daenerys said with him for a long time, and Sansa had to have faith he would share when he was ready.

While Sansa was pleased to see that Tyrion's mood had lifted, Grey Worm's escape hung over her like a dark cloud. The Unsullied captain had been one of the few links she had to tie Robin and Gawan to the horror of the Wolfswood. Now all of her husband's tormentors were out there and she had no justice to offer him. The threat against her family had grown and the only possible link was a guard with no obvious connection to Grey Worm. There was something missing that would make sense of things, if only they could find it.

The Queen shook her head clearing the thought. The logical part of her mind knew there was nothing more to be done. Maester Wolkan was sending ravens to their allies warning of Grey Worm's escape and the guards were searching around the castle. All she could do was wait for Darron to wake and hope they could get some answers. Accepting she could do no more wasn't easy, but it was the truth.

* * *

"Where would Grey Worm want to go in the North?"

Arya wished she knew the answer to Brienne's question. From what they could gather Grey Worm hadn't left Westeros with the rest of the Unsullied but had somehow made it North where he made a deal with Robin and Gawan.

"There must have been somewhere he was hiding. Tyrion said Grey Worm only came to the farmhouse when Robin and Gawan had gone" said Arya

"It would make sense they didn't want Grey Worm near their slavery business"

The harsh wind chipped at Arya's face as she looked out over the battlements. As far as Arya was concerned Grey Worm was long gone. The tunnel they'd found ran directly out of the castle and the escape had only been noticed this morning – there was no way of knowing how long he'd been missing.

"Grey Worm should have been executed in Kings Landing for what he did. The Unsullied killed men who were on their knees, but it was Jon and Tyrion on trial" said Arya, her hand curling around the hilt of her sword "Grey Worm had a chance to leave with his head but he comes here to kill Tyrion instead"

Brienne nodded "Ser Davos told me about Kings Landing and what Daenerys did"

It had been months but she could still see Kings Landing burning. Arya turned her attention to the snowy expanse of the North spread before them. Grey Worm could be anywhere, but wherever he was the Unsullied captain was a threat to her family.

"He came so close to killing Tyrion" said Arya, anger winding through her "if Lyon hadn't attacked him he'd have killed him in front of me – we were too far away to save him"

"Whatever you need I'm at your disposal" said Brienne, inclining her head "I serve Bran, but my sword will always be yours too if you need it"

Arya nodded her thanks "What I need is someone to stick my sword into"

"I don't understand how Grey Worm knew about that hidden passage - or that guard" said Brienne

"None of us knew about it" said Arya "we only found it because of Lyon and Tyrion"

"I went to see Bran earlier but his guard said he wasn't to be disturbed" said Brienne, her face pulling downwards "it's unusual - he normally doesn't mind"

Arya tried to ignore the pang of concern that went through her. From what Ser Davos and Brienne had told her Bran was acting out of sorts, being unusually tired and brief this morning. Part of her wanted to go to her brother and see if he was ok - ask for his guidance on finding Grey Worm. The larger part of her remembered what he'd said yesterday and it kept her firmly rooted to the battlements. If Bran didn't want to act like family then that was on him - he'd always be her brother.

* * *

"Please tell me this is your idea of a joke"

"If only it were" said Bran

Ser Davos ran a hand over his face, slumping in the chair. The King hadn't left his chambers all day, giving only short answers when they called upon him. When the bells had rang this morning and news of Grey Worm's escape had broken, he'd rushed to the Kings chambers followed closely by Brienne and Podrick. Bran hadn't looked at all well for the few minutes they'd seen him. He'd claimed it was tiredness and agreed to Brienne's request to help the Winterfell guards search for Grey Worm.

While Davos and Pod had searched within the castle, Brienne had joined the guards outside - all to no avail. All they had was a guard who had supposedly aided in the escape. When the King had summoned him to his chambers this afternoon he'd hoped it might be good news for a change, but that was too much to expect from the three-eyed raven.

"You do know I'm not much of a fighter" said Ser Davos

"I know"

The older man sighed. This job was going to be the death of him.

"At least tell me you had a good reason" said Ser Davos

"Reasons won't make any difference"

A bit of Bran's colour had returned from this morning, but the young King still looked unwell. His eyes were half closed as if the light of the afternoon was hurting him and he kept rubbing his head.

"We should go Ser Davos" said Bran "better not to delay"

"Aye, your Grace" moving stiffly from the armchair "If our heads end up on spikes, I was honoured to serve you - though it's aged me more than smuggling ever did"

The young King gave a half smile "The honour was mine Ser Davos"

* * *

Sansa shifted on her throne, appraising the young man before her.

Darron was quite new to the Winterfell guard. He was just past ten and six, sporting a tangle of red hair and a face that appeared far too young to develop facial hair. Only an hour ago Maester Wolkan had knocked on their chamber door, informing her Darron had woken and he could find no obvious cause for his headache and confusion.

Tyrion knew the guard - describing him as young, cheerful and dim-witted.

"Darron's a good lad" he'd told her "but I don't see how he could have possibly masterminded the escape of Grey Worm, let alone why he'd want to"

She'd spoken with Arya, Wolkan, Brice and Cayn too - all sharing similar sentiments. None believed Darron had the capability to help Grey Worm escape, let alone the motive.

Now the guard was on his knees before her awaiting her verdict on a story that made no sense.

Tyrion and Arya stood along from her with Maester Wolkan. Brice and Cayn stood behind Darron, both looking grim. Brienne and Podrick had joined them as well as a few Winterfell guards spaced around the room.

"Tell me again what happened" she said

Darron bowed his head, his hands trembling "Your Grace…please-I don't know. I was in the barracks just after my watch ended, and then-I don't know why but I…got the keys…"

"How did you know where the keys were?" asked Tyrion, his mouth turned downwards "You're a new, inexperienced guard. You wouldn't have been left in charge of the keys for a dangerous prisoner"

"M'lord, I don't know" he cried, his brown eyes begging them to understand "I'd never seen them before…but I just knew where everything was…like there was something controlling me"

"What did you do exactly?" asked Sansa

"I…I remember walking around the outside of Winterfell and going in some passage by the wall... and then I came out in the dungeon…I let him go-I'm sorry…I led him outside"

"And then?"

"I don't remember much…I had headache" he said, squeezing his eyes shut "nothing was right…like someone split my head open"

Sansa glanced sideways at Tyrion and Arya; both seemed as confused as she was. The young man was at least speaking coherently now, but he apparently still had headache. From where Sansa sat he didn't look particularly well.

"You've admitted to releasing a valuable prisoner" said Sansa, her throat tightening "You've committed treason"

"Your Grace…I'd never" he cried, tears leaking down his face as he turned to Tyrion "m'lord you know me - I'd never betray you"

Tyrion's frown deepened "Is there nothing else you can tell us? Did someone put you up to this? Threaten you at all?"

"No m'lord" he said, shaking his head "I did it…but I don't know why"

The Queen tightened her hands around the arms of the throne. All their evidence pointed to Darron's guilt - he confessed to doing it. Yet Sansa struggled to believe he was guilty. Regardless of her feelings there was no other evidence; a headache and feeling strange wasn't a defence either.

"Is there nothing else you wish to say in your defence?" she asked, her stomach churning

Darron lowered his eyes, his shoulders shaking "No, your Grace"

Sansa drew in a breath, the weight of her crown sitting heavily over her "Based on your confession and the evidence presented, I find you guilty of treason and sentence you to death"

Brice looked like he'd tasted something sour as he seized the young man, though it was nothing compared to the pain on Cayn's face as he took his other arm. Tyrion was staring at the floor as Arya moved to carry out the sentence.

"Wait!"

Ser Davos' shout echoed around the great hall, drawing all their attention to the side door where the older man pushed in Bran's wheelchair. The Kings hand was panting as if he'd run here, while Bran sat slumped in his seat - his expression unreadable.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Sansa, her eyes narrowing at her younger brother

"You have the wrong man" said Bran

"He confessed" said Arya, needle in her hand "he had the keys"

"Darron's body committed the crime, but his mind played no part" said Bran

A trickle of fear crept down the Queen's spine at her brother's words "What do you mean?"

"I freed Grey Worm" said Bran, his dark eyes staring into hers "Darron was merely my legs"

A moment of silence followed the confession before all hell broke loose.

Arya's attention whipped to Bran as the rest of the room hurried to intercede. Sansa sat frozen on her throne as Arya stalked towards their brother, her sword drawn. She was aware of Tyrion and Maester Wolkan trying to stop Arya, even as Brienne and Podrick leapt to defend their King. The Winterfell guards had also frozen with their swords drawn; somewhere in Sansa's mind she realised they were waiting for orders. Bran's confession seemed to have severed the connection between her mind and body, for all she could latch onto was the horrified face of Darron as he stood before the throne. Brice and Cayn still held him, but they appeared totally confused by what was going on.

"Your Grace"

Wolkan's voice drew her back to the present, as the old man's worried face appeared before her.

"Your Grace please, before this ends in blood" he said, turning to Arya and Bran – and the people stood between them.

"Move" growled Arya, trying to push past Tyrion

"Arya please" said Brienne, one hand on her sword; though her face was twisted in conflict

Order. There had to be order.

How could there be when her little brother had betrayed them?

A hollow ache spread through Sansa's chest as the various pieces slid into place. How had she not seen it before?

"Brice" she called, drawing the large man's attention "you and the guards will take Darron to the barracks and remain there until I summon you. Understood?"

"Aye, your Grace" he said, signalling for the guards to follow

Darron's jaw was hanging open as he stared at Bran, his eyes bright with horror.

"Come on" said Cayn, patting his shoulder and steering him out the hall.

Sansa understood his horror; he'd just been moments from death after all.

With the guards out of the way Sansa turned her attention to her family. Brienne and Pod had both drawn their swords to guard Bran, though neither looked happy about it. Ser Davos was stood to the side attempting to reason with Arya as Tyrion gripped her right arm in an attempt to hold her back.

"Arya stand down" she called, rising from the throne

"He betrayed us!" she shouted, her face twisted in anger. This was the most emotional she'd seen Arya since childhood.

"I'm aware" she said "but we will hear what Bran has to say"

Arya hesitated a moment before stepping back from the wheelchair – though her sword never left her hand.

Sansa descended the few steps until she stood between the two parties. Arya and Tyrion stood off to her right while Bran and his council were on her left. Pod and Brienne dropped back to either side of the wheelchair, both keeping their swords out.

She turned to Bran, her stomach churning as she looked at her brother "Explain. Now"

The three-eyed raven tilted his head to one side, his face as emotionless as his voice "I freed Grey Worm"

"Why?"

"He's not supposed to be here"

For the briefest moment Sansa considered slapping Bran. She couldn't take the empty eyes and detached words any longer. He was her little brother but he was a stranger.

"You betrayed us" said Arya, moving forwards with her sword pointed at Bran

Brienne and Pod moved to intercept but Bran held his up, signalling them to hold. Arya shrugged out of Tyrion's grip until she stood in front of their brother – her sword pointing at his throat.

"I did what was needed" said Bran

"You controlled Darron"

"I warged into him" said Bran, folding his hands in his lap

"Why?"

"I needed legs"

Sansa watched Arya's knuckles turning white around the hilt of needle with a sense of detachment, her mind spinning to accept the information that was rapidly overloading it.

"You used Darron like a puppet to do your bidding" said Arya, her grey eyes burning into their brother "You let a dangerous prisoner loose in the castle"

"Outside the castle"

"If you're so clever how did you know Grey Worm wouldn't kill Darron when he was free? How did you know he wouldn't go upstairs and kill Tyrion?"

Bran's voice never changed as he answered "I didn't"

Sansa wasn't sure it was the casualness of the answer or the answer itself, but something inside her snapped along with Arya's restraint.

"I should kill you" said Arya, her sword arm trembling as she shoved the tip of her sword under Bran's chin

"Lady Arya, please..." said Ser Davos

Brienne and Pod had their swords out but if Arya struck it would be too late.

Tyrion moved in front of Arya, holding his hands out "Arya, don't do something you'll regret"

"I don't think I'll regret this"

"Bran's your brother"

"So are you" she said, grief twisting her face "He put you and Sansa in danger"

"We can sort this without bloodshed" said Tyrion "trust me - you don't want to be a kinslayer"

A shudder went through Sansa as she watched Bran. He was one sword stroke from death and still he gave no sign he was bothered by what was happening. As if he hadn't ripped their family apart.

"Enough" called Sansa her own voice devoid of emotion as she looked at the three-eyed raven

"This can't go unpunished" said Arya her wolf eyes flicking to hers

"Bran is King of the six Kingdoms – killing him would start a war" said Sansa

"I don't care" said Arya

A dark part of Sansa wasn't sure she did either.

The Queen moved closer to her family, her eyes finding Tyrion's as he stood across from her. What Bran had done betrayed them all, but none more so than Tyrion - he was the one Grey Worm wanted to kill. If the turn of events had hurt him, Tyrion's face gave nothing away; his focus appeared to be on Arya.

Sympathy rolled through Sansa as she looked at her little sister. Of them all she'd been Bran's biggest supporter - insisting he was different but he was still Bran. Sansa would always love her little brother, but the three-eyed raven scared her. The things he knew, the things he could do - it wasn't natural. She'd been forced to accept that Bran wasn't the brother they'd once known, and now Arya was faced with the same truth.

She turned her attention to Bran, Arya's sword still resting at his throat "You say you warged into Darron - can you control anyone?"

"I can warg into animals, humans are very difficult" he said, wincing as if his own head ached

"Why Darron?"

"He was the most simple-minded person I could find"

"I nearly killed him because of you" said Arya, a snarl covering her face

"That's why I came to stop you"

They needed the details; there were questions that needed to be answered - but Sansa wasn't sure she could stomach it. There wasn't a hint of remorse in Bran's eyes.

"Where is Grey Worm?" she asked

"Gone" said Bran

Sansa's hand curled into a fist "Tell us where"

"I can't"

"Can't or won't?" snapped Arya

"Both"

"How dare you?" said Arya, her sword arm trembling "Tyrion's your brother too - and you put him in danger"

"Arya it's alright…" said Tyrion, moving to her side

"How are you not angry?" she asked, her face tightening "He betrayed you"

"Tyrion's used to being betrayed" said Bran simply

"Shut up!" said Arya, her head whipping back to the King

Sansa wasn't sure whether Bran was purposely antagonising them or whether he just lacked self-awareness. Whatever the case decisions would need to be made, and it fell to her to make them.

"You're leaving tomorrow" said Sansa

"As planned" said Bran

"Not soon enough" growled Arya

"I should throw you out now" said Sansa, her throat tightening "I should punish you for what you've done"

Bran said nothing, his dark eyes studying hers like a bird studies a worm. She hated this. It made sense now and Sansa hated that she was playing her part in it. Bran's distance from Arya, how Grey Worm escaped through a passage no-one knew of - the pieces fell into place and it brought Sansa no comfort.

"You will leave tomorrow as scheduled" said Sansa "and remain in your chambers until then. Ser Brienne, Ser Davos and Ser Podrick are free to make use of the castle as are your guards - but you will not"

"You can't be serious!" said Arya, her grey eyes murderous as her sword edged closer to Bran's neck.

"Arya, stand down" she said "I am Queen and my decision is final"

Her sister's gaze burned into hers, and for a moment Sansa thought she might refuse - that her sword would continue its journey through Bran's throat.

The room froze at the deadlock, until Arya finally withdrew her sword.

"Yes, your Grace" said Arya, giving Sansa a mockery of a bow before turning on her heel and storming from the hall

Brienne and Pod lowered their swords at Arya's exit, both looking uncertainly between Sansa and Bran.

"It was the right choice Sansa" said Bran, dark eyes studying hers "if you banished me now it would have damaged the relationship between our kingdoms"

"Like this already hasn't…" muttered Ser Davos, rubbing his beard

"Out of respect for our parents I won't banish you" said Sansa, narrowing her eyes "but if you threaten my family or the North again I'll take your head myself"

The three-eyed raven nodded as the weight of responsibility grew even heavier over Sansa. Arya may be furious with her, but at least she didn't have to fix this mess - Sansa had no such escape. The Queen's eyes moved to her husband and the distant look on his face. Something had been weighing on him all day, and this morning's excursion had exhausted him. Part of her wanted to take Tyrion back to their chambers and lock the door. They could hide away; just the two of them - and leave all of this to someone else. Yet Sansa was a Stark, and duty was in her blood.

* * *

Knocking on Arya's door was a dangerous proposition at the best of times, but particularly when she'd come close to killing her brother.

"Who's there?" called a gloomy voice

"Tyrion" he said "Can I come in?"

"Are you alone?"

"Lyon's here too" he said, glancing down at the direwolf. Him and Sansa had just come out of the great hall when the wolf appeared, as if looking for him.

"Fine"

Tyrion eased open the door, slipping inside with Lyon at his heels. Arya was sat in the window ledge, a collection of knives spread around her. He'd taken only one step in when she sent a blade spinning through the air to land in the centre of a wooden plank propped against the wall.

"Am I disturbing you?" he asked

Arya's face was tight "No, you and Lyon can come in"

From experience Tyrion knew speaking to Arya could be easy or difficult depending on her mood. He made his way towards her, dragging the chair from her desk to join her at the window. The girl was spinning a knife through her fingers as she often did, but her eyes were rimmed with red.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked

"About what?"

"Anything that might be bothering you" he said

"What could possibly be bothering me?"

Tyrion squirmed in his seat "Something with three eyes perhaps"

Arya's jaw tightened as she sent another knife spinning into the target "There's nothing to say"

"I know Bran's actions hurt you-"

"Hurt me?" she said her grey eyes narrowing at him "That thing in Bran's body is a monster"

"He's your brother"

"No, he's not" she said, her lip curling in disgust "He forced his way inside the mind of an innocent man and used him as a puppet to release a murderous prisoner intent on kiling you"

Tyrion's stomach rolled at Arya's words, his heart beat picking up pace. He'd tried to shake it all day, but the feeling of being hunted continued to cling to him.

"Yes, Sansa was going to speak with Darron when I left her. The young man deserves an explanation and apology"

"He deserves Bran's head"

"You can't really mean that"

The glare Arya shot him was enough to terrify a giant, but Tyrion knew her too well to be afraid. Even when she'd lunged at Bran he hadn't thought Arya was really capable of killing him despite her behaviour.

"How can you forgive him?" she asked "You have more right to be angry than anyone"

Tyrion leaned back in the chair considering how to answer "Do you remember when I propsed Bran as King?"

Arya nodded.

"I did so for many reasons, but primarily because Bran is the world's memory. He has access to all of our history; the mistakes and triumphs of the world. In knowing the past you can avoid the same mistakes in the future – it's fascinating"

"I think you mean disturbing"

"My point is, for Bran to take such drastic action there must be a reason"

"Like he's evil"

"I don't believe Bran is evil" said Tyrion, shaking his head "Nor is he a benevolent ruler – I chose Bran as King because I believed he was neutral"

"How is neutral better than good?" scoffed Arya

Tyrion tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, a hint of regret swirling in his heart "I know what Daenerys was at the end; that she went mad. But Daenerys believed herself to be a just woman – that she was doing the right thing. Even when she did terrible things she believed it was justice; that was a liberator of the downtrodden"

"She's a rather extreme example"

"Alright, take Tommen then. I wasn't in Westeros for most of his reign, but from what I heard he was a kind King. Gentle and well-liked"

"He was weak"

The last time Tyrion had seen his sweet nephew was when he formally began the trial for Joffrey's murder before recusing himself. The news that Tommen had killed himself had broken his heart, and years later his memory still stirred guilt in his chest. If not for that damned trial Tyrion wouldn't have left Westeros, or killed his father. Tommen wouldn't have been alone with Cersei.

"Sorry" said Arya, nudging him "I know he was your nephew"

"No, you're quite right. Tommen was kind but he was weak – easily manipulated" he said, pulling his focus back to the point he was making "There you have two examples of decent people with good intentions. For evil rulers we need look no further than Joffrey and Cersei. Being good or believing you are just doesn't necessarily make for a good ruler. Bran is neither – he simply is"

"What he did was cruel Tyrion"

He nodded "Through our eyes of course it was, but Bran isn't looking through the eyes of an ordinary man. I believe what Bran did wasn't done with malicious intentions"

Having said his piece, Tyrion watched Arya trying to gauge her reaction. When Bran confessed Tyrion had been as confused as everybody else, but it also made sense of things. Who would know of a long forgotten passage in Winterfell besides a man who had access to all of history?

Arya's brows were furrowed as she processed his words. While Tyrion found it difficult to be angry with Bran, there was no denying his actions had wounded Arya who'd always been his biggest supporter. Sansa loved her brother, but didn't trust him the way Arya did – or at least had.

When Arya moved her gaze to him, her expression was unreadable.

"Want to throw some knives?" she asked, holding out a couple

He had no idea what conclusion Arya had come to and knew better than to ask. Instead he picked up a knife, feeling the weight of the handle in his left hand.

"I've been practicing" he said, recalling Arya's instruction on how to throw a blade. The skill was difficult enough, but Arya had insisted he only use his left hand for the activity as a way to strengthen the damaged limb.

"We'll soon find out"

"I sense you doubt me"

"Actions speak louder than words big brother" she said, her eyes turning distant

* * *

The path to the barracks didn't seem long enough for Sansa to get her thoughts in order. Not when there was so much vying for her attention. An innocent man had nearly died because of something Bran did. Grey Worm, Robin and Gawan were now all free in the North when they should be dead. Her younger brother had taken control of another human and betrayed them all. To make matters worse, when she'd left the great hall with Tyrion Lyon had been waiting for his master. For the little wolf to seek out Tyrion was a clear sign that her husband's mind was troubled. Not that Sansa had needed the sign. Despite Tyrion's guilt lifting following their earlier talk there had still been something weighing on his mind.

The list of problems to deal with was near endless, but her current task was the most immediate concern.

"Your Grace, you must not worry yourself - the decision you made was all you could have done given the evidence" said Maester Wolkan, shuffling along beside her

Sansa shook her head "Thank you Maester, but it doesn't change the fact an innocent man nearly died because of Bran"

"No-one could have imagined the truth"

"I wish I could forget it"

The Queen wasn't sure what bothered her more; that Bran had betrayed them or how he'd done it. Just the thought of Bran taking control of someone's mind made her skin crawl, but his strange powers proved to be the missing link that made sense of what had happened. What made it worse was her lack of surprise. As shocking as Bran's confession was, her mind had little trouble accepting his betrayal. She'd been uncomfortable in Bran's presence since he first returned to Winterfell but what he'd shown her in the Godswood had resigned her to the fact she would never understand him. It had been days since then and she still had no idea what she was supposed to have seen. All she'd gained from the experience was imagery to haunt her nightmares.

The barracks was a low building next to the armoury, mostly used by guards between watches. No-one permanently lived there, but it contained basic beds and facilities for the Winterfell guards to rest between duties. The Queen rapped on the heavy door, which was opened by a middle aged man a moment later.

"Your Grace" he said, his eyes widening in surprise

"Apologies for disturbing you, but I wished to speak with Brice and Darron"

"Of course, your Grace" the man said, pulling the door open to let them in

While Sansa knew asking to enter wasn't necessary she also had no desire to startle the men - or gods forbid see them undressed.

"They're in the room at the end, your Grace" said the man, bowing his head

"Thank you" she replied, trying not to gag at the smell of sweat that had assaulted her as soon as the guard closed the door

Sansa could honestly say this was a part of the castle she'd rarely visited - and hoped not to again for a long time. Basic beds lined the rooms as they walked through, various pieces of equipment scattered throughout. They passed a mess room where several men were playing some kind of game that involved a knife. Their eyes doubling in size when the Queen walked through - followed swiftly by a frantic bobbing of heads.

"Good afternoon" she called, pushing quickly towards her target. It occurred to Sansa that Tyrion was right - she was afraid of unfamiliar places even within her home. Her husband had offered to join her, but she'd told him to take some time for himself - promising to join him soon. Tyrion had given only a little resistance before wandering off in search of Arya, and Sansa had asked Maester Wolkan to join her. Her husband had looked tired since this morning and with Lyon's appearance she was keen to not let him get carried away with work. Tonight's farewell feast for Bran would be cancelled, so at least she could enjoy a quiet dinner with Tyrion - barring any more disasters.

While it was good to see Brice had apparently locked himself away with Darron to await her, Sansa wasn't enjoying her tour of the barracks. When she passed a door her nose told her contained the privy she considered a tactical retreat.

"How can the men stand it down here?" her nose wrinkling as the rancid smell assaulted her

"I assume they've gotten used to it" said Wolkan, his mouth turned downwards "I'm rather relieved I became a Maester"

"Be glad you weren't the Maester at Castle Black. When I went there to find Jon the conditions made this look like Highgarden"

"I can imagine"

When they finally reached the room at the end of the corridor, Sansa could hear voices on the other side.

"What was it like?" asked a voice she recognised as Cayn's

"I don't know…like a weird dream. I knew what I was doing but I didn't…"

Sansa drew in a breath as anger rolled through her. This was Bran's fault.

She nodded to Wolkan, the older man pushing open the door and leading her in. The Queen stepped into the cramped space, her eyes falling on Brice, Cayn and Darron sat around a battered wooden table.

"Your Grace" they greeted, moving to their feet

"Please, sit" she said. Maester Wolkan pulled out a chair for her and Sansa perched on the edge facing the three men.

Darron was directly opposite her with Brice and Cayn either side. The young man kept rubbing his head, brown eyes darting nervously between her face and the table.

"I owe you an apology Darron" she said "you were found guilty of a crime that you were blameless of"

"I did it your Grace" he said, his shoulders trembling "I never wanted to"

Sansa shook her head "My brother is the three-eyed raven. I don't entirely know what that means, but Bran has strange powers. He used you to free Grey Worm"

"I did it, your Grace" he said "I saw me doing it"

"It was your body, but it wasn't you" she insisted "You're not at fault"

"It was me though" he said, wrapping his arms around himself

Brice raised an eyebrow at her, shaking his head. Tyrion had described Darron as nice but dim-witted, while Bran had called him the most simple-minded person he could find. It was only now she understood what they meant. Despite Bran's confession, Darron couldn't quite grasp he wasn't at fault as he'd seen himself committing the crime. There was a blunt honesty about him that she liked. Just because his mind wasn't particularly sharp didn't mean he lacked the attributes of a good guard.

Sansa decided a different tactic was in order "Who are you loyal to?"

"You, your Grace" he said immediately "and lord Tyrion"

"My husband speaks well of you"

Darron's cheeks flushed "That's good to know"

"He's a loyal guard, your Grace" said Cayn, patting his comrade on the shoulder

"I agree" she said "Darron, I hereby rescind my earlier judgment. You are found not guilty and will not be punished"

The young man looked confused, as if he didn't know why he was innocent - until Brice leaned over to him.

"Accept it lad" he hissed "best not refuse the Queen"

That seemed to snap him out of his thoughts, his red head bobbing up and down quickly "Thank you, your Grace…I won't fail no more"

Sansa gave a tight smile, though anger coiled in her stomach. Who was Bran to use this man as a puppet? From where she sat he held more loyalty to the Starks than her own brother.

"Now that's settled I wish to offer you a reward. You were the victim of Bran's crime and your honour was questioned because of it. As Queen in the North I will not see the innocent punished" she said "Ask for what you wish, and if it's within my power I will grant it"

Darron furrowed his brow at her words and Sansa waited patiently for him to decide. If the perpetrator had been anyone but Bran she'd have taken their head and given it to Darron as justice. That was out of the question however. As murderous as Arya had seemed Sansa hadn't thought Bran was truly in danger, and to her annoyance Bran had sensed the same. The three-eyed raven was callous, manipulative and at times inhuman - but he was family. Though if Bran continued to act against their family that might well test her resolve.

"Have you decided?" she asked, as Darron lifted his gaze to her

"Yes, your Grace" he said, biting his lip "Could I have my job back?"

"Your job?"

"I always wanted to be a Winterfell guard" he said hurriedly "please, your Grace - I won't mess it up again"

The ability to ask anything of a Queen was one many would die for, yet Darron wanted nothing more than the job he hadn't actually lost. The young man before her may well be slower than others, but Sansa thought she might sleep a little safer tonight knowing there was a loyal, honest guard protecting Winterfell.

* * *

Bran watched the bird on his window ledge as it walked along, nudging off pieces of snow that tumbled down the side of Winterfell. The King considered warging into the bird and taking flight - the sky was always freeing. Yet his body rebelled against the idea.

The blinding pain in his head had diminished as the day wore on, but it continued to linger. Changing into Darron's skin had been incredibly difficult. Animals were simple, but a human being was a different matter entirely. The three-eyed raven had warned him during training that to enter the mind of another human was to be avoided - that it was an abomination.

He'd done so with Hodor on his journey North. At first it had been difficult, but gradually Hodor had opened to Bran as easily as a door. The power he held both repulsed and fascinated him. Was it cruel to have used Hodor and Darron as he had? Undoubtedly. Somehow Hodor had been easy for him. Wilas had essentially become Hodor because of Bran. Darron had been a different matter entirely. The guard's mind was soft and young - unburdened by the horrors of war the senior guards had experienced.

Bran sighed, rubbing his head. Despite the guard's simple mind he'd resisted. Bran's control over him had been minimal and lasted just long enough to get Grey Worm beyond the wall of Winterfell. Sansa had asked him earlier if he could control anyone and the answer was a resounding no. The effort of controlling Darron had nearly driven him mad. He knew his sister would worry about him trying to go in her mind, or Tyrion or Arya. She had nothing to fear on that count. Going near any of their minds would be the end of him; there was too much anger, pain and misery.

He wasn't all powerful. Bran had spent the rest of the night agonised in bed, his mind shifting through a thousand eyes - Darron's fear seeping into him. When the bells rang this morning he'd managed to feign wellness just enough to appease his council.

"Was it worth it, your Grace?" asked Podrick, standing guard at the door

"It was necessary"

"That's not what I asked"

"Whether it was worth it is of no consequence; it had to happen"

Bran had sought a way to avoid this, but there was simply no other solution. The old Gods likely agreed - he suspected they'd aided him controlling Darron, much like they blocked him from warging into Lyon. This was their territory and they made the rules. The three-eyed raven was a servant and not a god.

"Will the guard be alright?" asked Pod.

The young man wasn't usually so direct but he was as annoyed as the rest of his council. Brienne was friends with Arya and Sansa; Pod was friends with Tyrion - Bran hadn't missed the conflict in their eyes when they stood between him and Arya.

"I hope so" said Bran, his stomach lurching as he recalled the way Darron had resisted him

"You don't know?"

Bran returned his focus to the bird sat on the snowy window ledge, deciding not to warg into it. The bird seemed content enough without his interference, no matter how much Bran longed to fly.

* * *

An army would struggle to take Winterfell. The terrain was harsh and the castle well defended - it could outlast a siege that wasn't properly prepared. A single sellsword wasn't as much of a problem.

_'The Eyrie. They say it's impregnable'_

_'Give me ten good men and some climbing spikes, I'll impregnate the bitch'_

The echoes of a conversation held long ago, whispered through Bronn's mind as he secured his package to the base of the tree, covering it over with branches and snow in case of curious guards. Bronn had hoped to make it back to Winterfell in time for dinner, but his package had slowed him down considerably.

Moving towards the wall of Winterfell Bronn fell into the skills he'd perfected over a lifetime. The Winterfell guards were attentive and dedicated, but there were always gaps in the defence for a lone man to sneak through. Guards were trained to identify armies and large threats, not a single intruder who knew the castle well - who knew the routines of the guards. With nothing to do but wait for morning, Bronn decided it wouldn't hurt to check how things lay - just to be sure.

He may be a lord, a knight and master of coin - but his sellsword instincts would never rest. Wherever he went he familiarised himself with the layout and routines. Who knew when you may need to sneak away? The discipline had saved his life many times, and tonight it led him to exactly where he wanted to be.

Pulling himself up on the ledge, Bronn pressed himself against the wall as he shuffled around the tower until he was just below the window he wanted. He felt along the tower with his hand, finding a handhold to pull himself up. By the time he drew level with the window to the Queen's chambers, his arms were shaking from the effort - he was getting old. Fortunately there was a light on, casting a glow into the room as Bronn wedged himself beneath the window, using a single stone that stuck out more than the others as a tiny seat. It wasn't much, but it did take the strain of his arms. Glancing warily through the window, Bronn spied Tyrion and Sansa awake in the bed.

"You could have woken me up if you had a nightmare" said Sansa

"You've had an awful day Sansa - I didn't want to bother you" said Tyrion

Bronn risked moving his head forwards, confident the inky blackness of the night was enough to hide him from the small candle burning on Tyrion's side of the bed. The dwarf was sat up in bed, a book spread over his lap as if he'd been trying to read in the middle of the night.

"Sweetheart it's no bother" said Sansa, placing her arm around him "was it the Wolfswood again?"

He nodded "It was Grey Worm. When he came to kill me…I was helpless. I was just lying in the snow, waiting for death"

"You were badly hurt"

"Sansa I wanted him to end it. I sat back so he had a clear target"

The Queen took the book from Tyrion's lap, placing it on the side table before drawing him into her embrace.

"All my life I've been under attack. Someone's always wanted to kill me" said Tyrion, his voice breaking "Even my father said the day I was born he wanted to leave me in the sea and let the waves take me"

"I'm so sorry" she said, brushing her hand through the back of his hair "No-one will hurt you here, I promise"

"What happened this morning…I didn't want to wait for him to get me. I wanted to meet death on my feet - not like a coward"

"You're not going to die Tyrion" said the Queen, kissing his head "and you're certainly not a coward"

Bronn pulled his head back as the two continued talking. The old sellsword rubbed a hand over his face. He'd wanted to be sure and now he was. As different as Tyrion was he clearly loved Sansa - and the Queen in the North seemed to love him too. If it had been different perhaps he would've taken Tyrion south, but the last lion didn't want to leave and Bronn had found no reason to make him.

Creeping away from the window ledge, Bronn made his way back to his package. It had been tempting to simply return tonight, but he could stick it out until morning - and then he would speak to the Queen.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

Sansa tapped her long fingers on the arm of her throne, awaiting the arrival of the petitioner who'd apparently travelled for days to see her. She hadn't long left the bed when the message arrived via a nervous looking servant. A man wanted to see her as soon as possible – without Tyrion. Anger spiked in her chest as she thought over the request. Whoever wanted to see her had better have a good explanation; she would not allow anyone to discriminate against her husband. Nevertheless, curiosity had gotten the better of her and fortunately Tyrion had still been sound asleep when she left.

Yesterday hadn't been a good day for Tyrion.

Their adventure in the tunnels had clearly taken a toll on him, leaving him tired and his movements stiffer than usual. As much as he'd tried to hide it Grey Worm's escape had unsettled him, casting a shadow over his mood. Tyrion had insisted he was fine all day but the truth had come out in the night. Sansa had been woken from her sleep by Tyrion's distressed murmurings, but it apparently wasn't his first nightmare of the night. When she'd turned to check on him Tyrion was propped against the headboard, a book in his lap and a small candle burning on the table next to him. He'd already had a nightmare but hadn't wanted to disturb her, so instead sat reading in the dark until he fell asleep and another terror haunted his dreams.

The Queen rubbed her temples; her poor husband.

No matter how much he tried to pretend the Wolfswood hadn't happened, Sansa knew there was no chance he could move past it so quickly. Much had changed in the eight weeks following the incident but what he'd experienced would cling to him for months to come. Sansa understood that better than most; on her worst days she could still feel Ramsay on top of her. Eventually she'd coaxed the truth from Tyrion; that he didn't want to die a victim. Grey Worm's appearance in the Wolfswood was something Sansa hadn't seen for herself and she was glad Tyrion had shared it with her, however horrible the story was.

_'I wanted him to end it. I sat back so he had a clear target'_

A chill swept through Sansa at what Tyrion had confessed. He'd looked so ashamed when he said it, but Sansa understood. The Tyrion she'd seen in the Wolfswood had been a broken man before the pain began – that he'd finally had enough by the time Grey Worm appeared was hardly surprising. Convincing him he was in no danger and there was no reason to be ashamed of what had happened in the Wolfswood had taken a while, but he'd eventually drifted into a deep sleep and Sansa was more than happy to let him get the rest he needed. She would deal with this petitioner quickly and join her husband for breakfast.

The Queen turned to one of the guards lining the hall "Where is this petitioner?"

"I don't know, your Grace. We told him you were on your way and he said he had to get something"

"Did you see his face?"

The man shook his head "No, your Grace – he was wearing a hood"

Several more minutes passed until Sansa was near ready to leave. The early days of her rule as Queen had been consumed by higher level politics and the smallfolk had been largely ignored by her. It wasn't something Sansa had paid much attention to at the time; until the consequences of her actions came back to bite her. An attempted rebellion, friends turning traitor and small folk who had no love for their Stark Queen, but respected their lion lord. Sansa was thrilled Tyrion had won such acceptance, and he'd done so acting as a true lord of Winterfell – not forgetting those he served. Finding the balance between the small folk and the larger issues in the North was a challenge but Sansa was determined to make it right.

That wasn't to say her patience was infinite.

Sansa was about to tell the guards to cancel the meeting when the main door of the great hall opened. Her eyes narrowed as she saw who the petitioner was.

"If this is supposed to be humorous I'm not laughing" called Sansa

Ser Bronn was dragging a heavy looking brown sack behind him, though he stopped just before the throne; making an exaggerated bow "The Queen in the North"

"How nice of you to return in time to leave" said Sansa

"Where am I going?"

"With Bran"

The lord of the Twins was covered in dirt and grime as he stood before her, reminding Sansa sharply of when she'd first met him in Kings Landing.

Bronn sighed, rubbing at his messy hair "What's the King done?"

"I'm sure you'll find out all about it" said Sansa "I'm more concerned with why I'm here and why you didn't want lord Tyrion to join us"

He quirked an eyebrow, dragging the sack forwards a few paces. It was then Sansa realised the sack was moving.

"To answer your question, you're here because I have a gift and Tyrion aint because I'm a thoughtful man"

Ser Bronn swung a kick into the side of the sack, his foot landing with a thud Sansa could hear from her place on the platform. He opened the top of the sack, grabbing hold of whatever was inside before wrenching it out before her.

Sansa's heart froze as she took in the wild face of Gawan Glover. The young lord's dark hair was overgrown and scruffy, and he had the beginnings of a scraggy beard. His left eye was swollen shut with a bloody gash above the eye. A gag covered his mouth and he was bound hand and foot as he squirmed on the floor.

Getting words to form was difficult, but Sansa eventually choked out the order "Seize him!"

Immediately the guards fell on Gawan, pulling him to his feet before the throne. Sansa drew in a ragged breath as her mind struggled to catch up with what was happening. Gawan was trying to say something but the gag kept him silent. Sansa didn't give a damn what he wanted to say; part of her wanted to give the order now. No trial, no words – only justice.

_'Take his head'_ urged Cersei _'send it to his father'_

Somehow she swallowed back the words, dragging her attention to Bronn. Satisfaction curled over the old sellswords mouth as he single-handedly delivered one of the men she'd spent weeks hunting.

"How?" she choked out "How did you find him?"

"I left Winterfell to drink and whore" said Ser Bronn, stepping past Gawan and closer to the platform "You hear funny things in inns and brothels. Whores and drunks tell the strangest tales. Like how they hear screams coming from just beyond the villages at night. How some of the whores were sure they were being followed"

Sansa's skin crawled as Bronn spoke, and she wanted nothing more than to kill Gawan then and there.

"Where?" she asked

"I found this sick little bastard castrating rabbits in a hut not far from the Dreadfort"

Gawan shook his head desperately as the guards tightened their grip, but Sansa felt sick to her stomach. She'd seen Gawan threaten to mutilate her husband in that manner. The letters Tyrion had received contained similar threats – letters that had stopped the day before last.

"I considered gutting him and bringing you his head but I thought you'd like the honour your Grace" said Bronn, resting his hand on his sword "Your kingdom, your rules and all that"

Sansa nodded, moving her attention back to Gawan and the guards holding him "Take him to the dungeon, put him in irons and keep him under constant guard"

"Aye, your Grace" answered one man, the rest quickly bowing their heads as they hauled the struggling Gawan away

The Queen turned to a servant hovering in the corner of the room "Have a bath brought to Ser Bronn's chambers and whatever food and drink he would like"

"You're too kind, your Grace" said Bronn, a smirk pulling at his mouth "was hoping to be back sooner but dragging the little shit here was hard work"

Sansa could only nod, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind – not least how she was going to tell Tyrion one of his tormentors was in the castle. A raven would be sent to Deepwood Motte and lord Glover would surely answer this time. For months she'd hunted the monsters that hurt Tyrion, and now she finally had one her most condemning evidence was gone. Grey Worm was the best witness they had against Gawan and Robin – and Bran had set him free.

* * *

The room was surprisingly bright when Tyrion stirred to life - far brighter than it usually was in the morning. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Tyrion pushed himself upright; grimacing at the stiffness in his body. Exploring the tunnels hadn't been his best idea.

"Sansa?" he called, glancing around the room. The Queen was nowhere to be seen and Lyon had seemingly decided to take her place in the bed.

"Have you seen Sansa?" he asked, nudging his friend

The direwolf gave a sleepy bark, rolling over to continue his nap. Judging by the sunlight streaming in from the window it was well into the morning - far too late for him to still be in bed. He turned to get up when his eyes fell on the note sitting on the table beside him.

_To my sleepy lion,_

_A message came early asking that I see a petitioner in court, though I'd have much rather stayed cuddling with you. Nevertheless a Queen's work is never done. You had a rough night and needed a lie in, so don't even consider feeling guilty over it. You can think of it as a royal decree if it helps; the lord of Winterfell must be adequately rested._

_I'll deal with this petitioner quickly and be back for breakfast my love._

_Sansa_

_PS - You looked particularly adorable when I left_

A smile crossed Tyrion's face as he read the letter. There was no denying how tired yesterday had left him. Both he and Sansa had crawled into bed last night having only the energy for a brief kiss before surrendering to sleep. No sooner had he closed his eyes did horrible dreams plague him; forcing him to relive his near death in the Wolfswood at the hands of Grey Worm. There was nothing new about someone trying to kill him – he'd been at the other end of a blade many times in his life. Yet somehow the Wolfswood was different; it was the first time Tyrion had accepted death. He'd spoken with Grey Worm but he hadn't pleaded for his life, he'd simply accepted this was the end. Tyrion had always believed death was final and to be avoided, but he'd stopped fighting in the Wolfswood – there'd been nothing left to fight for. Now the idea of surrendering so easily brought him nothing but shame. He should have fought to his last breath, not just accepted his former friend was going to execute him.

Tyrion had been tempted to wake Sansa and seek her advice and comfort, but she'd had so much to deal with yesterday. Rather than disturb her he'd tried to settle his mind with a book, until he fell asleep and yet more nightmares plagued him; this time his distress waking Sansa. Familiar guilt bubbled in his chest for his continued weakness. It shouldn't bother him - he was safe in Winterfell. Despite being in the safety and comfort of his home Tyrion couldn't entirely detach from the old fears clinging to him. The worry that something would appear to snatch his happiness away from him constantly lurked in his mind. Sansa had been as caring as ever, listening to his rambling and brushing away his fears and doubts with a practiced ease. Tyrion had always thought of himself as cursed, but if the Gods had given him one blessing it was his wife. Somehow Sansa's love was enough to stick together the broken fragments of his heart; enough to chase away the darkness that often threatened to grip him.

Deciding not to waste any more of the day in bed Tyrion extracted himself from the warm blankets and went about getting ready. He wouldn't allow Grey Worm's escape to bother him. He was the lord of Winterfell and the Queen's husband. There were plenty of things to occupy his mind and keep him busy. He relied so much on Sansa, but she could rely on him too. Whatever support she needed from him was hers, and Tyrion was determined to make that clear. They both struggled to rely on others to varying degrees, but things were improving. Ruling was a heavy burden and Sansa would never be left alone to bear it.

Tyrion was in the final stages of fastening his tunic when the door opened. He moved out from behind his screen, a smile on his face as he saw Sansa in the doorway.

"Good morning wife" he called, wandering over to her "You'll be pleased to know I made it out of bed"

The Queen returned his smile though it didn't reach her eyes. Tyrion didn't have chance to focus on it before Arya appeared behind her sister.

"Hello Arya" he greeted "joining us for breakfast?"

The Stark girls shared a look that made his heart sink to his stomach.

"Everything alright?" he asked, searching Sansa's face

"Why don't we all sit down" said Sansa, closing the door and moving towards the hearth. Arya caught his shoulder on the way past, steering him over to join them.

This was strange behaviour. After yesterday he'd thought Arya might ignore her sister for a little while over not punishing Bran, but the sisters seemed united in whatever was going on. His body moved of its own accord as he fought to repel the poisonous whispers of his own mind with the truth. There was no reason to be nervous; this was his home and they were his family. Whatever it was they could deal with it.

Despite his resolve, Tyrion was more than grateful when Sansa's hand closed around his; pulling him onto the chaise beside her while Arya took up position in an armchair. Tension hung in the air like a heavy fog and Tyrion sought some way to ease the nerves building in his chest.

"If this is about the drool on your pillow Sansa, I swear it was Lyon" he said, flashing her a smile

The Queen brushed her hand through his hair, her face softening "You can drool on my pillow any time sweetheart"

"Good to know"

Tyrion looked between them, noticing that Arya was staring at Sansa as if waiting for her to take the lead – something she didn't appear eager to do.

"What's going on?" he asked, unable to stomach it any longer "You're both acting strangely"

"Just tell him" said Arya "You're making this more complicated than it needs to be"

"It's not an easy thing to explain" snapped Sansa, shooting a glare at her sister

"Let me do it"

"No" said Sansa "He's my husband"

"Hurry up then" said Arya, slumping in her chair "There's a lot to do today and you're making Tyrion nervous"

Immediately Sansa's eyes found his, concern brimming in the pools of blue.

"I'm not nervous" said Tyrion, smiling at his wife in an effort to reassure her

Arya rolled her eyes "We all know you're thinking of apologies for things you haven't done big brother"

"Why did I even let you come?" said Sansa, pinching the bridge of her nose

"Because you need me. There are things to do and if I left you two alone you'd waste the rest of the morning staring at each other or fucking" said Arya

"You're in a charming mood" said Tyrion, raising an eyebrow at the younger Stark

Tyrion thought he might revise his earlier opinion. While Arya was apparently working with Sansa on whatever this was, she didn't seem to have completely forgiven her for yesterday. Sympathy wound through Tyrion as he took his wife's hand. Bran's betrayal had hurt both of them but unlike Arya, Sansa had to act as a Queen first and then a sister. Whatever her personal feelings were over Bran's actions they came second to her duty to the North – and a relationship with the King of the Six Kingdoms was vital to that.

"Sansa whatever it is, you can tell me" he said, squeezing her hand "You're always here for me – let me help you too"

"I don't want you to worry..." she started, drawing in a deep breath "but Bronn returned this morning. It turns out he was the petitioner who wanted to see me"

"What did he want?" asked Tyrion

The Queen bit her lip, her voice softening "He brought a prisoner back with him; he caught Gawan Glover"

Of all the things Sansa could have said Tyrion had never imagined that. A coldness spread through Tyrion's chest, chilling him from head to toe as his heart picked up pace. The monster was here; the creature that cut him to pieces every night and whispered threats in his ear throughout the day.

"You ok Tyrion?" asked Arya, sitting forwards in her seat

Both of the Starks were watching him with worry and Tyrion forced his mouth upwards into a smile "This is good news isn't it? We may have lost Grey Worm but Gawan is more valuable – he will have information on where Robin is hiding"

Sansa nodded, though her face was grim "That's true, but Grey Worm was a valuable witness against them. I'm so sorry Tyrion – I'd like to execute him immediately but I can't"

Of course. Gawan was the heir to Deepwood Motte; no doubt lord Glover would soon be on his way to defend his son. It struck him then why Sansa seemed so troubled. She hadn't killed Grey Worm in order to use him as evidence against Robin and Gawan, but without him it was Tyrion's word against theirs. Sansa had seen the Wolfswood and she knew exactly what Robin and Gawan had done, but that was hardly evidence either. No-one would have cared if she'd taken the head of an Unsullied captain loyal to Daenerys, but taking Gawan's head would be a political battlefield.

"It's alright Sansa" he said, smiling at her "I quite understand. Whatever I can do to help, please let me – you needn't carry this burden alone"

"I swear to you Tyrion he will face justice, but for now he'll remain our prisoner. Maester Wolkan is sending a raven to Deepwood Motte as we speak" said Sansa, cupping his face "I don't want you to worry. Gawan will be kept under constant watch by several guards – he won't be anywhere near you"

"Sansa's right" said Arya, leaning across the arm of her chair "he won't leave this castle alive and you won't have to see him"

"Lord Glover will be furious when he arrives" said Sansa "but you don't owe him or anyone an explanation of what happened in the Wolfswood. If you don't want to talk about it, or you feel uncomfortable at all just tell me"

"Or you can tell me and I'll separate both their heads from their bodies" said Arya, shooting him a wolfish grin

"Thank you both" said Tyrion, forcing some cheer into his tone "I appreciate your concern more than you could ever know – but I'm fine. I want to help in any way I can"

Arya bounced from the chair, patting his back on the way past "See? I told Sansa she was worrying for nothing. You must be happier than anyone that we've got one of the bastards"

"Absolutely" he said, ignoring the way his skin crawled at the thought of Gawan in the castle "Why would Bronn help us?"

Sansa shook her head "I've no idea, but he's managed to do what we couldn't in weeks"

Arya leaned over the back of the chaise "I think I won't kill him for wandering off, seeing as he's done something useful. He's certainly not my least favourite guest now"

Tyrion didn't need to think hard on who now held that title. While the search for Robin and Gawan had been ongoing for weeks without any progress, part of Tyrion had hoped it would all eventually fade away like a bad dream. Not that he wanted them to get away with what they'd done...he just didn't want to relive it.

It was too late for that. Gawan Glover was in Winterfell and Tyrion would have to find a way to live with that until he could be executed. The lord of Winterfell would try to forget about him. Grey Worm had been prisoner for weeks and his mind had mostly avoided thinking of him in the dungeons below. Besides, thinking of Gawan would only darken his mood. Sansa spent far too much time worrying over him as it was – this time he would support her. When lord Glover arrived the game would truly begin, testing Sansa's leadership of the North. The Queen would need a clear mind to handle the situation and Tyrion would do whatever possible to help.

He was the lord of Winterfell and Gawan was a stupid boy. He may have been helpless in the Wolfswood but Winterfell was his home – Gawan was at their mercy this time.

* * *

Bronn sighed, sinking deeper into the chair. As much as he disliked the North he'd expected to have at least a few more days to enjoy the comfort of Winterfell before traveling back to Kings Landing. There was no chance of that anymore.

He rubbed the side of his head, levelling a glare at Ser Davos "You're telling me the King took control of some poor bastard and freed his sister's prisoner?"

"Yes"

"And he showed the Queen what happened to Tyrion in the Wolfswood by doing whatever the hell he does with the trees?"

Brienne nodded, crossing her arms "More or less"

Bronn looked between Ser Davos sipping wine in the chair opposite him and Brienne warming herself in front of the hearth, before swivelling in his seat to face Podrick "How the fuck did you end up lord of Casterly Rock?"

The young Knight's face flushed a bright red "Lord Tyrion suggested it"

"I don't believe it"

Ser Davos scoffed "Everything we've just told you and that's what you find hard to believe?"

"It aint hard to believe everything went to shit without me" said Bronn, smirking at the older knight "that Pod's somehow got a nicer castle than me is"

"You have two castles" said Brienne, scrunching her nose

"Aye, but they aint Casterly Rock"

"You can't have it" said Pod, his voice firmer than usual "I'm its lord now"

Bronn narrowed his eyes at Pod's glare, before barking out a laugh "Easy there lord Payne, I don't want Casterly Rock – nice to know you're willing to defend it though. About time you got a voice"

The younger man's face softened, nodding slightly. It was more than time for Pod to get some kind of reward. The lad had fought at Blackwater and in the Long Night, serving with honour each time. He was loyal to a fault and all he'd gotten for it was a Knighthood that meant nothing and the job of standing outside Bran's door all day. Bronn had learned long ago that nice people always lost out. The only way to win was to take what you wanted; otherwise you'd end up being walked all over.

Drawing his attention back to the haggard face of Ser Davos, Bronn decided his approach to life was clearly superior. The Kings hand seemed greyer than usual, as if serving Bran had aged him. That was something Bronn could understand. By all accounts the Starks were furious with their brother and sleeping in the same castle as a pissed off Arya would give anyone sleepless nights.

"So when are we leaving?" asked Bronn

"Midday" said Ser Davos, tapping his shortened fingers against the arm of the chair "I wouldn't expect it to be a tearful goodbye"

"How did you manage to find Gawan Glover?" asked Brienne

The old sellsword rolled his eyes. He knew it wouldn't take long for one of them to ask the question.

"You sound surprised" he challenged, moving his gaze to the lady knight

"I am" she said "Half of the North has been searching for weeks, yet you find him in days"

"They weren't looking in the right place or asking the right people"

"Who did you ask?"

Bronn shrugged "You don't ask so much as ya listen. That's when you hear them all talking about how the abandoned keeps are haunted. That's when ya see the groups of men meeting up in the local inn and then disappearing"

"Disappearing where?" asked Davos

"Different places from the bits I heard, but the ones who left the villages were all being recruited for something"

"You saw Robin Flint and Gawan Glover recruiting these men?"

"Course not" snorted Bronn "even they aint that dumb. I reckon it was there people recruiting for them. I tried following the trail but the North's that damned spread out it's near impossible. I found the piece of shit in the dungeon on his own in some hut near the Dreadfort. Vicious bastard was hacking animals to bits"

"How did you know it was him?" asked Pod "It could have been anyone"

Bronn held his tongue from answering. The whole of the North was still talking about what had supposedly happened in the Wolfswood and the rumours were enough to paint a picture of the monsters responsible. In the days he'd been gone Bronn had followed a few dead ends searching for Robin and Gawan, but when he'd followed the trail of mutilated animals to a shabby hut he knew he'd found the right person – the evidence was undeniable.

The lord of the Twins turned his face into a smirk, lifting his chin "You think I'd survive so long as a sellsword if I couldn't find the right person?"

Searching through Maester Wolkan's room before he left Winterfell had shed light on many things, all originating from a stack of letters addressed to Tyrion. Neither Bran nor the Stark girls had mentioned anything about letters being sent to Tyrion, and Bronn wasn't going to spread it about; the contents was stomach churning.

"However you did it, thank you" said Brienne, inclining her head "I'm sure it means a lot to Sansa and Arya – not to mention to Tyrion"

"Aye" said Ser Davos "hopefully it'll ease some of the tension between the King and his sisters. Never thought I'd say it but you're no longer the biggest problem on this trip"

"There's still the trip back to Kings Landing" said Bronn "Reckon I'll piss you off before we get back"

"Best not in the Westerlands" said Davos "or you'll be dealing with Lord Payne"

"Why are we going there?"

"To introduce Pod as the new lord" said Brienne

The new lord of Casterly Rock nodded "We're stopping in the Neck to pick up Meera Reed too – she's replacing me as sworn shield"

Bronn folded his arms, glaring at all of them "You better be joking"

"No" said Brienne "King Bran has already arranged our route back to Kings Landing. It should take about five weeks given the detours"

"Look on the bright side" said Ser Davos, raising his cup in a mock toast "it won't be as bloody cold as up here"

Bronn slumped in his chair, coming to terms with their travel plans. All he wanted was to get back to Kings Landing and sleep, not go on a meandering political tour of Westeros. They'd be saying goodbye to Pod too, meaning he'd be left alone with Davos and Brienne.

"Any of you shits think about getting in the wheelhouse with Bran I'll gut you before your arse touches the seat" he warned

Brienne nodded her assent "I think you've earned the first break from riding"

"I don't think anyone will fight you for it" said Pod, a frown pulling at his face "not after Bran took control of the guard's mind"

"If he wants to take control of my mind he's welcome to try" said Bronn, ignoring the cold prickling at the back of his neck "things I've seen will soon scare him off"

* * *

Arya stood back, observing the men as they covered over the hidden path they'd emerged from yesterday. Now that they knew about it the exit would be sealed off; leaving it open was too much of a risk, no matter how obscure it was. Particularly since Grey Worm knew about it. Sansa had given the order almost immediately after they found it and Arya couldn't blame her sister. A path that led into the heart of Winterfell was too much of a security risk. Nevertheless, Arya had requested the tunnels not be destroyed. There was no telling how many other passages were hiding among the one they'd followed yesterday, and if they could find them they could use them – or if necessary destroy them.

"It's almost a shame" said Tyrion, watching the work beside her "The tunnel would make an excellent escape route if Winterfell were under attack, but it could also allow enemies in"

"Too many guards saw us use it. If only one person tells another it's not a secret anymore" she said

"True, though it was a rather fascinating discovery despite the circumstances"

Arya snorted "You should have seen Sansa's face when she realised where you'd gone. I'm sure she nearly cursed"

"I don't believe that. Your sister speaks nothing but sweet words" said Tyrion, though his face had reddened at the reminder of yesterday "Sansa's too much of a lady – unlike you"

"I never wanted to be a lady"

"I wanted to be High Septon once" said Tyrion, a faraway look in his eyes "the vows of chastity were something of a turn off however"

"Why High Septon?"

"I'm a Lannister; if I do something I must be better than everyone else"

Arya's mouth turned upwards "Why would you ever want to join the faith? You're a sceptic"

"I couldn't be a Knight and Father would never allow me to become lord of Casterly Rock. What is a highborn dwarf to do?" he said "I wanted to be a Maester once but that was also forbidden – Lannister's do not serve"

"What would your father have done with me if I was born a Lannister?" asked Arya.

Working as lord Tywin's cupbearer had given her a strange impression of the man. On the one hand he was cruel and cold, but a dark part of Arya knew she could be the same. The war between their families had erupted because their mother took Tyrion, and at the time Arya had thought of all Lannister's as evil. Time and experience had changed her perspective somewhat – if one of her family was taken she would do anything to get them back. Despite her grudging acceptance that the war between their families wasn't purely because of Lannister cruelty, Arya still found herself hating Tywin. The way he'd treated Tyrion was unforgiveable.

"He'd have married you off as he did Cersei" said Tyrion, glancing warily up at her "I hate to say it but in that respect you do share a similarity with her"

She raised an eyebrow at Tyrion "Your explanation had better be good"

"Cersei resented the role she was forced to play. She hated me even as a child, but I do recall how furious she was when she began to understand the differences between her and Jamie. They gave him a sword and her a sewing needle"

Arya nodded grudgingly "Mother used to try and make me a proper lady, but father wasn't as strict. He said I reminded him of Lyanna"

"By all accounts a fierce woman, much like yourself" said Tyrion

She turned her attention back to the men setting stones over the grille they'd emerged from yesterday. It was hardly surprising that there was a network of passages beneath Winterfell but finding them had always proved problematic. Now they knew of the entrance in the dungeons Arya had every intention of uncovering as much as possible. The mechanism that had revealed the passage had managed to hide it for decades at least. It was likely similar mechanisms could be found in Winterfell now they had an idea what to look for.

When Sansa had knocked on her door this morning Arya hadn't been inclined to speak with her. As far as she was concerned Bran was getting away with what he'd done and Sansa was letting him. Unfortunately she was unable to ignore Sansa's frantic knocking and the news that Gawan Glover had been captured was enough for her to temporarily put aside her annoyance with Sansa.

She glanced sideways at Tyrion as he wound his hand through Lyon's fur. Her sister had been worried about how to tell him Gawan was in the castle, but to Arya it was simple; just tell him the truth. The news hadn't unsettled Tyrion as much as Sansa's behaviour had. Arya had seen him growing more worried the longer Sansa dragged out telling him, rather than if she'd just come out with it. While Arya generally preferred a blunt approach she wasn't oblivious to how Tyrion might be nervous having one of his attackers so close.

"Are you worried Gawan's here?" asked Arya

"Of course not" he said, forcing a smile "Why would I be?"

"No reason at all" said Arya, grasping his shoulder "He won't be leaving Winterfell"

"Good"

Arya didn't entirely believe Tyrion but she wasn't going to push him either.

"I'm going back into the tunnels this morning if you want to join?" she asked "This exit may be sealed off but who knows how many other routes can be found under there"

"A tempting offer" he said

"You and Lyon would be a big help"

Tyrion rolled his shoulders, grimacing "I fear yesterday's exertion quite exhausted me"

"Come with me now and take a nap later then. Sansa won't mind – for some reason she finds you endearing"

"Your sister does seem rather fond of me" he said "though I'm afraid I'll have to decline this time"

"Aww Tyrion..."

"Sorry" he said, patting her arm "but I have duties to attend to"

"Like Sansa?"

"Sansa is a blessing and not a duty, but I was referring to my actual duties" he said, quirking an eyebrow at her "you also have a duty today"

Arya stiffened "No, I don't"

"He's your brother..."

"Someone should tell Bran that"

Arya crossed her arms, stepping away from Tyrion to watch as the men worked on covering the tunnel. His footsteps crunched through the snow behind her as he caught hold of her arm.

"Wait!" he said "I know you're upset with Bran but you won't feel like this forever"

She turned to face him, shrugging out of his grip "Don't you have duties to attend?"

"I'm dealing with one right now" he said, levelling her with a gaze "As your brother I must advice against ignoring Bran"

"Why? After everything he's done, why should I forgive him? He's done nothing but cause problems since he came here; he was cruel to Sansa, he put you in danger and he doesn't want to be part of the pack!"

Arya didn't realise she'd raised her voice until Lyon barked, gazing up from the rocks he was sniffing around. The men working on the tunnel were casting subtle glances across at them too.

Tyrion's eyes were brimming with sympathy "I don't think that's true. Out of all of us, you're the one who trusts in Bran the most – the closest with him"

"Not anymore. Bran did everything to push me away"

"That's exactly my point" said Tyrion "I think Bran distanced himself from you deliberately"

"Of course he did"

"What I mean is, Bran knew you would be the most hurt by his actions. He claims he cannot see the future, but I believe he has some kind of sense for it. You say Bran pushed you away, I say he was trying to protect you – in his own twisted way" said Tyrion, a sad smile crossing his face "Bran knew what he was going to do would hurt you the most, I think he tried to warn you in advance; so the betrayal wouldn't hurt quite as much when it came"

Arya narrowed her eyes "You're assuming a lot. You're assuming Bran's still capable of caring"

"I believe he is"

"He does an excellent job at hiding it"

"Much like Sansa did"

Arya froze at Tyrion's soft reminder of Sansa's icy behaviour. Seeing them together now it was hard to remember that hadn't always been the case. The first few months of her reign, Sansa had been as cold as winter – they'd all endured it, but none more so than Tyrion. It was months later but Arya still recalled sitting on the battlements with Tyrion as he came to terms with his upcoming marriage.

"It's not the same thing" said Arya, her shoulders slumping

"Perhaps not. The reasons for their coldness couldn't be more different, but beneath it all are the people we love. You've seen how different Sansa is now. It took me a while to believe it, but I don't doubt Sansa loves me – though I'm still not sure why"

Arya's mouth twitched upwards "You've charmed her somehow"

"A mystery of life" he said "I forgave Sansa – you could give Bran another chance. The three-eyed raven isn't something the rest of us will ever understand"

"Bran isn't sorry for what he's done Tyrion. Whatever he does he shows no remorse"

Tyrion sighed, running a hand through his curly hair "I cannot speak for Bran, I can only tell you my own view on the issue"

"Understood" she said, turning away from him "if you're not going to join me, I'd best get started on those tunnels"

She'd taken only a few steps before Tyrion's voice brought her to a halt.

"Don't miss the chance to say goodbye to your brother – you never know when it will be the last"

Arya turned around but Tyrion was already walking back to the gate with Lyon at his heels. She grit her teeth, turning back to her own destination and trying to ignore the ache in her chest. It was a hard lesson to learn, but Bran was gone. She wouldn't cling to the ghost of a brother long dead anymore; no matter how much she wanted to believe Tyrion's words.

* * *

It was the library where Bronn came across the Queen in the North – and fortunately there were no other wolves in sight.

"Your Grace" he called, sauntering into the otherwise empty library.

Sansa was sat at a small desk with several books spread out around her. She stiffened at the sound of his voice, but the panic that flashed across her face was quickly replaced by the neutral face of a Queen.

"Ser Bronn" she greeted, eyeing him warily as he approached the desk "Can I help you with something?"

"Not unless you can tell the King to go straight back to Kings Landing. I'm getting too old to be trawling all over the bloody country"

"I would if I could" she said "Were you looking for Tyrion?"

"Nah" he said "little wolf don't want to talk to me no more"

Sansa raised an eyebrow "My husband's sigil is a lion. Were the banners in the great hall not clear enough?"

"He don't seem much like a lion these days" said Bronn, pulling over an empty chair to sit opposite the Queen. The young woman narrowed her eyes at the action but made no protest.

"Tyrion's been through a lot, but he'll always be a lion"

"Aye, I've heard plenty of things about what happened to him up here. Reckon it was Kings Landing that broke him though"

"He isn't broken, but what happened in Kings Landing can't have been easy for him. Daenerys slaughtered a city and turned on him"

"I meant the trial for killing Joffrey" said Bronn, meeting the Queen's icy blue eyes evenly "Poor sod was left alone to deal with that mess"

Sansa's face tightened "I was taken by littlefinger; I had no choice"

Bronn held his hands up "He was a slimy bastard for sure. I just wondered if you ever thought about your husband scheduled for death in Kings Landing while you were with littlefinger"

"No, I didn't" she said, her voice turning icy "I was rather busy being sold to the Bolton's and dealing with my aunt Lysa"

"She was a right crazy bitch" he agreed

"Why are you asking me this?"

"It just seems strange how you went from not wanting anything to do with Tyrion to dragging him North and marrying him again"

The Queen's face flushed as she pursed her lip "That's not really your concern"

Bronn shifted in his chair, eyeing the woman opposite him. The difference from the little girl in Kings Landing and the Queen studying him like supper was impossible to miss. Bronn had heard many tales of how badly she'd been treated and he didn't doubt she was an unwitting pawn in Littlefinger's plan – but she needed to know Tyrion hadn't forgotten her as easily as she'd forgotten him.

"Tyrion asked for you in Kings Landing" he said, gauging her reaction "Pod went to get a list of people who might witness for him and you was the first person he asked for. He didn't know you'd escaped with LIttlefinger"

She dropped her gaze, biting her lip "He did?"

"A lot thought you were in on it given how you left, but Tyrion insisted you were innocent. Until Shae told her lies of course – made you both seem guilty"

"He never said he asked for me" she said quietly

Guilt crept into the Queen's face, softening her icy image. The point of this talk wasn't to make her feel guilty – Bronn knew she'd suffered horrendously in Kings Landing and hadn't wanted to marry Tyrion. At the same time Bronn wanted to make sure she understood; that there had been someone trying to protect her in Kings Landing.

"It was a long time ago anyway" he said "he never blamed you for leaving or nothing"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Tyrion didn't want you to be married to him. He thought you'd suffered enough" said Bronn "even when his father was pressuring him to bed ya he refused. Do you know why?"

"He's a good man"

"Aye, but he wanted you to like him" said Bronn, grimacing "poor bastard was stuck between you and Shae. You wanted nothing to do with him and Shae loved him. He sent her away the day of Joffrey's wedding and it tore him to pieces; all because he wanted to be a good husband to you and his family were making his life hell. She was jealous of course and you heard about the trial"

"Is there a point to this, or are you just trying to make me feel bad? I had no control over any of that"

Sansa's blue eyes were glistening as she glared at him and Bronn wondered if this had been a good idea after all. If Tyrion was going to stay here it only seemed right Sansa understood things. That Tyrion wanted nothing to do with him anymore had stirred a rather unpleasant feeling in his stomach, as had his accusations that Bronn saw him as nothing more than a bag of gold. With Jamie dead someone had to look out for him.

"The point is I don't want the little shit to get hurt again. You heard about Tysha and you know what Shae did. His own damned family tried to kill him" he said, leaning forwards in his chair and locking eyes with the Queen "Despite all that he's somehow fell in love again. I hate to say it but he's happy here"

"I love him" said Sansa, her voice strangely tender "we're his family now"

Bronn sat back "Aye, and don't you bloody forget it"

Sansa stared at him a moment longer before nodding, her mouth twitching upwards "Understood. Though this goes both ways. If you do anything to upset Tyrion I'll have your throat slit and bury you in the coldest place I can find"

Some of the tension dissolved between them at their new understanding. Just because Tyrion had been banished North didn't mean he was alone. If the wolves turned on him Bronn had two castles for him to stay in.

"You gonna kill that shit in the dungeon?" he asked

The Queen's face darkened "I'd do it now if I could, but there'll have to be a trial of some sort"

"If I had a son like that I'd bury him myself. Sick bastard was surrounded by dying animals when I found him. He'd cut the cocks off most of them, and half-skinned others"

"He will die one way or another" she said "whether his father agrees or not Gawan won't leave here alive"

Bronn nodded "You should know they're recruiting men from the villages. A few of the places I went there was meetings going on in the corners of the inns, whispers of men heading further North"

Sansa grimaced "We've had no luck finding them until you found Gawan – there are just too many places to hide in the North. Arya will take answers from Gawan, and enjoy every moment of it"

"I wouldn't mind watching that"

"Neither will I"

* * *

Ser Davos rubbed his beard as he wound his way through the halls of Winterfell. In a couple of hours they were leaving the castle to start the slow journey back to Kings Landing. Bronn had wandered off to do something or other but Brienne and Pod had thankfully taken charge of readying the departure. For all the days they'd been at Winterfell Davos hadn't had time to make this visit. The life of a Kings hand was apparently one of constant work. He slowed his steps as he approached the Queen's chambers. He'd hoped to have more time to speak with Tyrion but work kept him busy and the lord of Winterfell didn't seem eager to converse with the visiting party beyond basic small talk.

He rapped on the door, clutching his gift in the other hand.

The door opened a moment later to reveal Tyrion, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Ser Davos" he greeted "if you're looking for Sansa I believe she's in the library"

"I was looking for you actually"

"Oh" he said, his brow furrowing "Would you like to come in?"

He followed Tyrion over to the chairs next to the roaring hearth, dropping into the armchair at one side. Tyrion moved aside an open book he appeared to have been reading before taking his seat across from him. Lyon was lying in front of the fire, raising his head long enough to glance at Ser Davos before resuming his lazing.

"What can I do for you?" asked Tyrion "I can send for some wine if you like"

"No, thank you" he said "If I'm going to deal with Bronn on the way back to Kings Landing it helps to be sober"

"In my experience it helped to be drunk. Though my wine drinking days are behind me now"

"Aye, and I'm filling the gap you left"

Silence settled between them and Ser Davos searched for something to say. When Davos had met Tyrion, the little Lannister was never short of words but over their time at Winterfell it was increasingly obvious he wasn't that man anymore. He was quieter and more reflective than he used to be, though his mind appeared no less sharp for the change in him.

Ser Davos pushed up from his chair, remembering the gift in his hands "Here, this is for you"

Tyrion accepted the package with confusion as Ser Davos returned to his own chair.

"Bran told us you'd been taken in Kings Landing and they were hurting ya...we all felt bad. None of us liked how you were sentenced by the way – we all thought it was harsh. Anyway we all tried to write to you and send a few things North but Bran stopped it. He said it wasn't time; but now I'm here I can give it to you myself"

He watched as Tyrion pulled off the packaging to see the heavy navy cloak.

Tyrion's mouth turned upwards "Thank you"

"Your welcome" said Ser Davos "reckon you need it with this bloody cold"

"It takes some getting used to" he said, running a hand over the heavy material "Pod brought me books, Brienne brought me my brother's belongings and now you give me this – forgive me Ser Davos but I can't help but wonder why"

Ser Davos nodded in understanding "Must seem strange after you were left alone all those weeks in the dungeon. It wasn't that we didn't want to see you – but Bran forbid it"

"I quite understand" he said quickly

Surely it had seemed strange to Tyrion when they all greeted him so warmly after ignoring him in Kings Landing. He wasn't to know Bran had ordered he be left alone – that no-one was to communicate with him in Kings Landing or when he went North. To Tyrion their friendship would seem fickle at best.

"It was wrong though. I was as guilty as you" said Davos

"I don't think that's true. I helped Daenerys come here – I should have stopped her"

"No-one could have stopped her" he said "She wouldn't listen to anyone after what happened to Missandei"

Heaviness settled over them at the memory of Kings Landing. The destruction and death often haunted his own sleep, but for Tyrion it had been the end of his family and everything he believed in. Someone had needed to take the blame following Daenerys's death and everyone had been quick to turn against Tyrion. All those he'd thought were friends while he was the Queen's hand had abandoned him when the tables turned. Davos had seen first-hand how furious Grey Worm was when Tyrion was sentenced – not many weeks before the two had worked together.

Tyrion shifted in his chair, forcing a smile "So how's life as Bran's hand?"

"Exhausting" he said, slumping in his seat "I thought Bran would be easy to serve. Figured he can see what's happening in his kingdom himself"

"I can't imagine he's an active ruler"

"He either says nothing or comes out with something random. Half the time I don't whether to take 'It's hot in Dorne' as a comment on the weather or a warning of drought"

"That sounds rather stressful"

"That's before you add in small council meetings"

"I think Sansa may have saved me from a cruel fate"

"Banishment North looks better every day - if it weren't for the bloody cold"

* * *

Tyrion trudged through the snow, his eyes darting around in hopes of spotting Arya among the Winterfell household assembling to see off Bran's party. Unlike Bran's welcome to Winterfell this event was met with enthusiasm for all the wrong reasons. Despite efforts to contain it whispers had spread like wildfire that the King was somehow involved with the escape of Grey Worm. Bran's strange powers already made many Northerners wary of him, and this hadn't helped his reputation. Nevertheless Sansa was determined to maintain the image of a strong relationship with the six Kingdoms. Showing stability in the North was more important than ever; particularly when lord Glover would be arriving within days.

"Are you alright?" asked Sansa, tightening her grip on his arm as he escorted the Queen to the gates of Winterfell

"Yes, I just hoped Arya might come"

Sansa shook her head "I don't think she will. Brienne told me she said goodbye to her, Pod and Ser Davos earlier"

"Surely she wouldn't let Bran go without saying goodbye?"

"It's impossible to tell with Arya these days. I don't feel particularly sad Bran's leaving to be honest"

"He's your brother"

"He is my love, and he always will be - but Bran made his choices knowing exactly what he was doing"

They continued to the gate, with Lyon trotting at their heels. He more than understood why Sansa and Arya were upset with Bran, but he didn't want the distance to grow between the siblings either. The relationship between him and Cersei had always been terrible but part of him still grieved her death - not because he missed her, but because he missed the relationship they could've had. It was too late for that; a lifetime of hatred had been impossible to overcome and she'd died hating him.

Tyrion cast a final glance around the crowd, his heart sinking as he realised Arya hadn't come. He'd hoped his words might have convinced her to at least be here to threaten Bran if not offer a sad farewell.

When he'd freed Jamie, a small part of him had wondered if it might be their final goodbye - if they would both survive the war to come. It still hadn't prepared him to find his brother's body in the destruction of the Red Keep. For all his cynicism a tiny piece of him had clung to the image of an invincible older brother until reality crushed it to dust. If he'd known the night he freed Jamie would be their final conversation he might not have left so many things unsaid; but at least they'd had a conversation.

As Tyrion met Bran's eyes he wondered if he missed his sister's presence.

"Queen Sansa, I thank you for your hospitality. I look forward to the relationship between our kingdoms continuing to grow" said Bran, his voice carrying across the courtyard.

The three-eyed raven was dressed in a dark grey tunic, a heavy blanket sat over his useless legs. Ser Davos stood to his right, with Brienne, Pod and Bronn taking up position to his left.

Sansa stepped forwards "I wish you safe travels King Bran. The trade deal we've agreed and the ones we are working on will bring prosperity to both Kingdoms"

It was painfully formal. Even as Sansa swept down to hug her brother goodbye it was stiff and awkward. With the key formalities observed the Winterfell household mostly dispersed giving them some privacy to say goodbye.

Ser Davos reached across grasping his hand "Take care of yourself"

"And you" he returned "I'd say being hand gets easier but it certainly doesn't"

"As long as it doesn't get harder"

Brienne was next and she surprised him, pulling him into a light hug.

"If you ever want to talk about…Jamie or anything…" she offered, crouching in front of him

"Thank you" he said, his throat tightening "that might be nice. You saw a side of him few others ever did"

Brienne had only just released him when Pod nearly bowled him over, crushing him in his grip.

"Pod!"

"I'll miss you Tyrion"

"You know where I am" he said "and I know where you'll be lord Payne"

Pod pulled back to look at him, his brown eyes glistening "Thank you. I won't let you down"

"You never could" said Tyrion "I've no doubt you'll be a great lord of Casterly Rock"

Podrick smiled, lowering his voice "You'll always be welcome at Casterly Rock, whether you're an exile or not"

"Treasonous words" he said, his mouth turning upwards

"I mean it. If you need me you need only ask" said Pod, hesitation lurking in his eyes "Would you mind if I wrote to you?"

Tyrion's heart soared "I'd like nothing more"

The group continued to exchange farewell's, some more heartfelt than others. Sansa seemed particularly sad at Brienne's departure as she hugged the older woman. Even Lyon looked rather forlorn as he wandered between them - soaking up as much attention as he could from his new friends before they left. The direwolf had a particular liking for Pod, but was quite amenable to Brienne and Davos as well.

Out of all of them it was Bran who seemed out of place. For once the indifferent mask he wore appeared to have given way to a hint of sadness creeping into his eyes. Stepping away from where Sansa and Davos were talking, Tyrion made his way to Bran who sat almost forgotten in his wheelchair.

"I'll be sorry to see you go" he said, smiling at the young man

"You'll be the only one"

"I don't think that's true…"

"It's quite alright Tyrion" he said, folding his hands in his lap "I knew the cost would be high, but things had to happen this way"

"Suppose you won't tell us why?"

Bran's mouth twitched upwards "You'd have made a good hand - you were my first choice"

"As flattering as that is, Ser Davos is an excellent choice. He will serve you far better than I ever could"

"Perhaps. I am sorry for what you suffered Tyrion but when I let Sansa take you the path was set" he said, his dark eyes brimming with an old power "The future of the North isn't yet decided and Sansa's decisions will shape much of it - but so will yours"

Tyrion smiled, ignoring the queasiness in his stomach "The North is in safe hands then; Sansa is an excellent Queen and I'll do whatever she asks of me"

Bran shook his head gravely "You are not a servant. For a small man you will cast a very large shadow"

The strange words washed over Tyrion like a dark prophecy, but he had no time to question Bran as the King turned to Ser Davos "It's time"

Reluctantly Tyrion moved away from Bran to re-join Sansa.

"Before you leave, there is something I owe Ser Bronn" said Sansa, reaching into the folds of her gown as the lord of the Twins turned his attention to her.

Bronn had been unusually quiet while they were speaking, staying off to one side and observing.

"You captured one of the men we've spent weeks hunting" said Sansa, holding out a pouch of coins to him "I'm not sure how much sellswords are usually paid for such work but my husband agrees this is a fair amount"

Tyrion fully expected Bronn to take the money and make a bawdy comment, but to his surprise the older man shook his head.

"I don't sell my sword no more" he said, turning his gaze to Tyrion "but I might loan it out to a friend"

A smile spread across Sansa's face as she withdrew the pouch "Thank you Ser Bronn. What you've done means a lot to both of us"

Tyrion had frozen at Bronn's words and he was more than grateful when the rest of the group subtly moved away to load the wheelhouse and ready the horses.

"I know I've been a bit of an arse to ya" said Bronn, as he crouched down to his eye – level "but I'm sorry, alright? I never should have taken that job from your sister and threatened you and Jamie. For what it's worth I am sorry he's gone, even if the mad fucker did try and charge a dragon"

"Yes, I remember that. He'd have died if not for you" said Tyrion, fiddling with his sleeves "I shouldn't have blamed you for taking Cersei's offer. I knew our relationship was one of business, but as with Shae I wanted more than what I was paying for"

It was the truth however difficult it was to accept. He'd bought the services of both Bronn and Shae but then wanted more from both of them. In Bronn he'd wanted a friend and in Shae a lover – blaming either of them was pointless when it was his fault.

"Come on, it wasn't all business" said Bronn "we had some good times, didn't we? And if I didn't like ya I wouldn't have stuck around for so damned long no matter how much you was paying"

"There were many drunken nights" said Tyrion, a smile pulling at his mouth "If I recall you didn't believe I could drink that much"

"Aye, I've seen bigger blokes than you on their back after drinking half of what you used to put away"

"My drinking days are a thing of the past"

"Probably a good thing given the piss they call a drink up here" said Bronn, clasping his shoulder "You aint paying me now – no reason we can't be friends"

"I suppose not" said Tyrion, some of the weight in his chest lifting

"Good" said Bronn, reaching under his cloak and shoving something into Tyrion's hands "Got this for ya"

"A dagger?" asked Tyrion, turning the sheathed blade in his hands. It was lightweight with a black and red handle.

Bronn shrugged "In case a bear tries to eat ya or something"

"Thank you" said Tyrion, his smile widening

Bronn grinned in return, patting his shoulder as he straightened up "The Twins aint that far if ya want to see my castles sometime"

"I'm an exile"

"What the King don't know won't kill us" he whispered, smirking at Tyrion before moving off to join Bran in the wheelhouse

He'd only taken a few steps before Lyon trotted after him, barking insistently.

"What's he want?" called Bronn, eyeing the wolf warily.

"Attention most likely; it's best to give it to him"

"He wanted to kill me last time"

Tyrion shrugged "Lyon can be fickle"

"Scared of a little wolf Ser Bronn?" asked Brienne, swinging onto her horse

"Of course not" he said, reaching down to pet the direwolf

Sansa appeared at Tyrion's side, her hand slipping around his as their guests made to leave. Lyon trotted back to them a few moments later and Bronn made it into the wheelhouse with all his fingers still attached. They waved goodbye as Bran's party set out for the Kings Road, before turning back to the much emptier Winterfell.

It was as they were making their way back across the courtyard Tyrion caught the slightest movement at the top of the battlements – high above where the guards patrolled and half-hidden by the heavy stonework. Tyrion might have been alarmed if he didn't know the place was one of Arya's favourites; if she hadn't once told him it was a place Bran had taught her how to climb to.

* * *

There were a thousand thoughts clawing for control of Sansa as she stared blankly at the documents set out on the desk before her. Bran's departure had eased some of the weight from her shoulders, but it was quickly replaced by the knowledge lord Glover would arrive within days. A raven had been sent first thing this morning ordering him to Winterfell to answer for his son's crimes and Sansa knew this time he would answer. Part of her didn't want to wait; she could finally offer Tyrion some justice but her duty as Queen tied her hands.

Aside from the problem of Gawan, there was Grey Worm's escape and the hidden tunnels beneath Winterfell to deal with. Arya was in a mood with her over Bran and Sansa's conversation with Bronn was still fresh in her mind.

Had Tyrion really asked for her?

Sansa had been a prisoner in Kings Landing; forced to marry a man she barely knew into a family she hated. At the time she'd cared little for Tyrion no matter how kind he was to her. Yet he'd been as much a victim as she was. He'd been in love with another woman and was then forced to marry a child who wanted nothing to do with him.

"You seem rather tense wife" came Tyrion's voice, starling her from behind. She hadn't heard him come into their chambers and heat rushed through her as his hands rested on her shoulders, rubbing gently through her gown.

"It's been a long day" she admitted, sinking into her seat as he continued rubbing

Following Bran's departure Sansa had met with Maester Wolkan to discuss their strategy for dealing with lord Glover before retiring to her chambers to sort through correspondence. Tyrion had disappeared to hold court before going to the practice yard – an activity he'd just returned from.

"The castle seems far emptier now" he said, working his thumbs into the back of her shoulder blades

"Not for long. Lord Glover will be here soon"

Tyrion swept her long hair over her right shoulder, his mouth pressing against her exposed neck "We'll have to make the most of the time we have then"

"An interesting prospect" she said, turning in her chair to face him "What would you suggest?"

"Whatever the Queen would like"

Sansa smiled, cupping his face and drawing him closer "I'd like you"

"Then I am yours"

She wound her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. All the worries clinging to Sansa fell away as she lost herself in her husband. Tyrion seemed to share her enthusiasm, his hands running teasingly down her sides. Desire ignited in Sansa, urging her to take things further as their kiss deepened. It took every ounce of self-control to pull back from him, a giggle escaping her at the pout on his face when she did.

"You don't want to?" he asked, trying and failing to hide his disappointment

Sansa leaned forwards kissing his forehead "I most certainly want to my love, I just wanted to ask you something first"

"Of course"

She kept her arms around him as she worked to get her thoughts in order. As much as she'd tried to improve Sansa knew she still struggled to share her thoughts with her husband. It was unfair to both of them that she expected Tyrion to be open when she wasn't. As eager as she was to continue enjoying Tyrion, her mind wouldn't rest until she asked him.

"I had a conversation with Bronn earlier" she started

"Oh?"

"He mentioned the trial for Joffrey's murder in Kings Landing"

Tyrion's brow furrowed "How did you get talking about that?"

"I'm not entirely sure" she said, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck "but he did say you asked for me when you were arrested"

A hint of redness crept into Tyrion's face "Everything happened so quickly. When Pod came to ask who might witness for me I did mention you – I hadn't realised you'd escaped"

"I left you in a terrible situation"

Tyrion shook his head "You were far better away from Kings Landing. If you'd stayed you'd have been put on trial too and both our heads might have ended up on spikes"

"I'm still sorry. Littlefinger had offered to help me leave Kings Landing...I didn't know what would happen or you'd be blamed for killing Joffrey"

"It's quite alright" he soothed, brushing his thumb over her cheek "None of that matters anymore"

The past couldn't be changed, that much was for certain. Feeling guilty over a situation she had little control over was a waste of time, though Bronn's words still drifted through her mind. That Tyrion wanted to be liked and loved was something she'd become intimately familiar with over the last couple of months. The idea that she'd denied him such a basic kindness when they first married made her heart ache, but things were different now. Never would she allow Tyrion to doubt his place in their family or in her heart again.

"I love you" she said, a thrill running through her as his green eyes brightened at the sentiment

"And I love you" he said, squirming in her grasp "Do you have any more questions?"

"Are you in a hurry?" she teased

"I'm very happy talking to you, though certain parts of me have a mind of their own"

"Hmm, let me think" she said, stroking his cheek before trailing her hand down the front of his tunic "I'm sure there are many things I still don't know about you"

"I can assure you there's nothing you're missing out on"

"Really? I'd like to know every part of my husband" she said, brushing her hand lightly over the front of his breeches

Tyrion groaned, his eyes pleading "Sansa, this is cruel!"

The Queen raised an eyebrow "I don't know what you're talking about love. Is there something you need?"

"You"

Sansa pretended to consider his answer for a moment. She'd already learned much over the few times they'd joined in bed, and Sansa loved making her clever husband squirm.

"Just what do you plan to do with me?" she asked, allowing her fingers to brush over the bulge in his breeches as she played with the lacing

"Anything" he said, breathing heavily "everything"

She leaned forwards, kissing his cheek "Very well my lord – you can have me"

Tyrion needed no further invitation as he grasped her face, kissing her hungrily. All thoughts of work and the problems to come rushed from Sansa's mind as she melted into her husband. The burden of ruling was a heavy one. Even a Queen deserved some time off.

* * *

It had been two days since Bran left and Arya considered it was time enough to end her avoidance of Sansa. It wasn't that she was angry with her sister as such – she just needed some time alone. Fortunately exploring the tunnels had kept her busy and occupied her mind. Without the distraction the temptation to go into the dungeons and kill Gawan Glover may have become too much.

Arya's absence hadn't gone unnoticed, as proven when Tyrion knocked on her door early yesterday morning. He'd brought Lyon with him and been dressed in thick clothes to explore the tunnels.

"I hoped your offer might still be open" he'd said, smiling cheerfully at her

While Arya had wanted some distance from Sansa, she had no qualms about Tyrion joining her and certainly wasn't going to turn him away. Exploring the tunnels was somewhat slower with Tyrion – he wasn't as agile as her despite his best efforts to keep up. Nevertheless she enjoyed his company and Lyon had helped them discover a few well-hidden routes.

"Are you angry with us?" he'd asked while they were climbing down a rusted ladder in the darkness

"No. Lyon can't climb down ladders"

"I meant with Sansa and I"

"Why would you think that?"

"Sansa thinks you're avoiding us"

"If I'm avoiding you Tyrion I'm not doing a very good job" she'd retorted, adjusting the improvised sling holding Lyon in place around her.

The direwolf had insisted on coming down the ladder with them, meaning one of them had to carry him. Given how unsteady Tyrion was as he made his way down Arya had insisted on doing it.

"Sansa had no other choice" he'd said "she's as angry with Bran as you are – but as Queen she had to act in the interests of the North"

That was all Tyrion had said on the matter, but much to Arya's annoyance it was the truth. A logical part of Arya had known that as soon as Sansa made her decision, but it didn't make it easier to accept.

After two days of distance it was time to end things. Lord Glover was expected to arrive tomorrow and Arya wouldn't leave Sansa and Tyrion to deal with that situation alone. Unlike Bran she wouldn't betray her family.

It was nearly noon when she made her way to their chambers, though for once she hesitated to barge in.

Arya rapped on the door, shouting "Are you both wearing clothes?"

"No, we're naked on the desk" called Tyrion

She rolled her eyes, pushing her way into the room in time to hear Sansa's whisper "The desk?"

The lord of Winterfell nodded with an impish grin on his face that Arya took to mean she wouldn't want to eat on that desk again.

Tyrion was sat in an armchair at one side of the hearth with a book in his lap, while Sansa sat in the opposite armchair – her needlework lying on the table before her. The scene was so perfectly domestic Arya felt nauseous. It was like Sansa's childhood dream come true.

"Good to see you little sister" said Tyrion, smiling at her "we were beginning to think you'd forgotten your way here"

"Sansa would probably like that" she said, dropping onto the chaise between them

"Your words, not mine" said Sansa.

The Queen's face was one of indifference unless you knew Sansa well, and Arya had no problem seeing the annoyance lurking below the surface.

"Are you joining us for lunch Arya?" asked Tyrion

"Depends on Sansa" she said, raising an eyebrow at her older sister

"Winterfell is your home too" said Sansa "Unless you've decided to move into the tunnels"

Tyrion glanced between them, moving to the edge of his chair "How about I arrange for lunch to be brought up? I think it's time I stretched my legs"

"Thank you sweetheart" said Sansa, smiling warmly at her husband

"You don't want to stay while we talk?" asked Arya in mock surprise

"There was a time when I enjoyed coming between sisters, but those days are long behind me" he said, pausing at Sansa's chair to kiss her cheek

"Good" said Sansa, her eyes brightening at his affection

"Come Lyon! Its better there are no witnesses for this"

The direwolf stirred to life at his master's voice, trotting after Tyrion as they left.

Sansa turned to Arya as soon as the door closed, raising an eyebrow "Would you like to list your complaints first or have you got it all out of your system now?"

Arya narrowed her eyes "You know Bran did what he did, because he knew there'd be no consequences"

"Of course he did. It was no coincidence he freed Grey Worm the day before he was due to leave"

"I nearly killed Darron because of what Bran did"

"Yes, and I gave the order" snapped Sansa, rubbing her head "If you think I'm happy about what's happened, I'm not. Bran manipulated everything so my hands were tied"

"It's not right that he gets away with it"

"What did you want me to do Arya - take his head? It would have started a war and we'd have killed our brother!"

Arya clenched her jaw, hating that what Sansa said was true. Blaming Sansa had always been easy as a child - she was the annoying, pretty older sister who'd never understood her.

She swallowed down her anger, forcing herself to confront the truth. They weren't children anymore and the only one at fault was Bran. Taking out her anger on Sansa was unfair when her sister had been forced to deal with a situation she hadn't caused.

"Fine" said Arya

"Fine?"

"Yes, fine. It's done"

The Queen sighed before nodding "Good. Lord Glover arrives tomorrow and I need your help"

"Do you want me to kill him?"

"No, but I need to make sure Gawan doesn't escape. I can't imagine lord Glover would try to free his son - he clearly expects Gawan to be found innocent - but I can't take that risk"

"He's not going anywhere" said Arya, locking eyes with her sister "How's Tyrion handling this?"

"Distracting himself mostly. Unfortunately lord Glover's arrival will bring back everything that happened in the Wolfswood, and the evidence against Gawan isn't very strong - particularly with Grey Worm gone"

"He can't get away with what he did"

Sansa's face tightened "He won't. I'd rather execute Gawan formally, but if it looks likely he'll be found not guilty…"

"Done" said Arya "Have you been to see Gawan?"

"No and I've no intention of doing anything until lord Glover arrives" said Sansa, crossing her arms "Every time I think of Gawan I see his grinning face as he hurt Tyrion"

"You never should have seen that"

"Gods Arya, he reminded me of Ramsay - he enjoyed hurting Tyrion"

Arya's stomach twisted at her sister's words.

"Bronn told me he found Gawan torturing animals in a hut near the Dreadfort" continued Sansa, her face paling

"We've sent men to search the Dreadfort before"

"There's no-one in the castle itself, and Bronn was quite sure Gawan was alone" said Sansa "the North is huge, without anything to narrow the search we're relying on luck"

"Weren't you sending a force to garrison the Dreadfort and the other abandoned castles?"

Sansa nodded, biting her lip "There aren't enough men to do it though, and I'm wary of spreading our guards too thin. I've not heard from Alec either"

"They should have taken Widow's Watch by now"

"I'm sending a small group to hold the Dreadfort - some of our guards are going to join with a group of Hornwood men to garrison it. Cley's sending his captain of the guards with a few men and lady Tallhart is sending some too. They'll be leaving later today"

A flicker of guilt stirred to life in Arya's chest as she looked at her sister's weary face. The crown was a heavy burden and she'd left her sister to bear it's weight the past two days. Tyrion had undoubtedly been helping, but Arya knew Sansa wanted to shield him from dealing with Robin and Gawan as much as possible.

"It's likely Gawan will know where Robin is hiding" offered Arya "I'd rather enjoy getting the answers from him"

"As would I" said Sansa, her face grim "but we need to convince lord Glover of his son's guilt. If we kill Gawan and it isn't seen as justice there _will_ be war between our houses"

"Yet you still want me to kill Gawan if he's found innocent?"

Sansa's blue eyes were as hard as ice as she met her gaze "Some things are more important than peace"


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

Tyrion shifted from foot to foot, awaiting the moment the doors to the great hall would open.

"Are you alright Tyrion?" asked Sansa, her blue eyes brimming with concern as she sat on her throne

"Absolutely, my Queen" he said, forcing himself to stand still

It had taken three days for news to reach lord Glover and for him to ride to Winterfell. Scouts had reported his movement along the Kings Road and to Sansa's annoyance he wasn't alone. Lord Glover had brought at least twenty men with him as well as Lord Manderly. Tyrion winced recalling the fury on his wife's face as she received the news.

"It makes sense why he's yet to reply to my letters" she'd said, her voice icy "he's apparently been hiding in Deepwood Motte"

Tyrion would not like to be lord Manderly when he arrived. Both he and Sansa had written to him regarding the issues merchants were having with deliveries from White Harbour, and the only replies they'd received were vague excuses from the castle's Maester.

Lyon barked, brushing against him. The direwolf had grown over the last week or so, his legs getting somewhat longer and gangly. He was still very young, but now stood just past Tyrion's waist.

"Best behaviour" murmured Tyrion, running his hand through the wolf's soft fur "this is a political meeting"

Lyon whined, scratching his paw at the floor.

"Intimidating them is fine" he conceded

Given the situation Sansa would not extend the courtesy of a warm greeting as she had to lord Cerwyn and lady Tallhart. At the news of lord Glover's imminent arrival the Winterfell household had assembled in the great hall. Sansa looked every bit the Queen of ice, dressed in a long black gown with a high collar and her direwolf crown glinting in her fiery hair. As her husband and the lord of Winterfell, Tyrion had taken up position to the right of her throne with Arya lurking over to the left. Guards lined the walls, all stood at ease with Maester Wolkan stood off to one side.

Tyrion smiled at the way Sansa had arranged things. It was a subtle yet firm reminder of who held the power, without being seen as aggressive. Sansa had told him he didn't need to be here, or see them at all if he didn't want to but there was no chance he would leave Sansa to face this without him.

After what felt like a lifetime the doors creaked open and lord Glover strode in, followed swiftly by lord Manderly. A small number of guards followed them into the hall before the doors were closed. The older lord's face was pinched in anger as he approached the throne.

"Your Grace" he said stiffly, bowing his head

Lord Manderly stood a little behind, but followed the same formal greeting.

"My lords, I welcome you" said Sansa "The hospitality of Winterfell is yours"

Nerves tingled through Tyrion as lord Glover lifted his head. With the proper formalities observed, the real problems would begin.

"Where is my son?" asked lord Glover, struggling to keep his voice steady

"In the dungeon" replied the Queen

"On what charges do you hold him?"

"Kidnapping, slavery, torture and treason" said Sansa without hesitating

Lord Glover's face grew red "Your Grace, I have been your loyal servant-"

"Perhaps" said Sansa "but Gawan has not"

Lord Manderly stepped forwards drawing level with lord Glover "Your Grace, I dare say these charges are somewhat troubling"

"Ah, lord Manderly I'm glad you're here. I'm very interested to know why the merchants in the villages surrounding Winterfell are not getting their supplies?"

"There have been a few late shipments" he said easily "I fear I've been away from White Harbour the past week or so. When I return I will be certain to straighten out any issues"

"I've heard no such reports of issues at White Harbour" said Sansa, narrowing her eyes "and Ser Davos Seaworth assures me there have been no issues in the six Kingdoms"

"I fear there's been some miscommunication your Grace" he said, bowing his head apologetically

"It would appear so. Until these issues are resolved, lord Tyrion's ruling will stand – you will pay the merchants affected by these 'issues' twice what they have lost and three times if it continues"

Lord Manderly shot a quick glare at Tyrion, before forcing his face into a look of repentance "Certainly, your Grace"

"To the matter at hand, if you please" said lord Glover gruffly "I demand to know what evidence you have against my son. Did you witness him engaging in any of these vile acts, or are we to take the word of wildlings?"

Tyrion drew in a breath, stepping forwards "I believe I can answer that my lord. I was in the Wolfswood where your son and Robin Flint were holding women as captives to be sold into slavery. Most were free folk though there were a few from the villages as well"

Lord Glover's eyes burned into Tyrion "You saw Gawan?"

"Regrettably so"

"I'm to take your word for it?"

"Why wouldn't you?" said Tyrion "It gives me no pleasure to tell you this my lord, but your son is guilty of all he is accused of"

The lord of Deepwood Motte looked as though he'd swallowed something sour as he glared at him, but Tyrion held firm despite the churning in his stomach. He hated thinking about the Wolfswood let alone talking about it, but he was the only witness against Gawan and Robin with any sort of credibility. Grey Worm could have been used as evidence, but the word of a disgraced unsullied captain would be taken no better than the wildlings. Sansa had assured him multiple times he didn't need to do this, but he'd insisted on getting this out in the open straight away.

"What exactly did Gawan supposedly do to you?" ground out lord Glover

"I will start by saying Gawan did not act alone, Robin Flint is equally culpable" said Tyrion "Together they arranged the kidnapping of women to be sold into slavery and held them prisoner in the Wolfswood. They sent men to take me from the path between Winterfell and the village and I awoke in the Wolfswood, where I spoke to both Robin and Gawan multiple times. You may recall the captain of the Unsullied – Grey Worm – he paid Robin and Gawan to capture me so he could kill me. When I was dead Robin Flint would move to marry Queen Sansa"

"They told you this?" asked lord Manderly

"They did, my lord"

"Please continue, lord _Lannister_" said lord Glover, emphasising his family name as if it were poison "what did my Gawan do to you?"

_'I'm coming for you little lion'_ whispered the beast's voice

Tyrion swallowed thickly "What didn't he do my lord? I'm sure you've heard plenty of tales. I helped the girls escape into the Wolfswood before I was captured again. Robin and your son were rather unhappy with me, particularly when I wouldn't tell them which path the girls had taken. They-they tried many things to make me talk..."

He trailed off, trying to ignore the way his heart was beating in his chest. Tyrion had turned this conversation over in his mind for days, rehearsing what he would say and how much to divulge. Every time he'd imagined himself delivering the truth without hesitation – instead he could barely get the words out. The violent imagery of his dreams these past nights had worn down whatever resolve he had. Tyrion had promised himself to do this; to help Sansa as much as he could. The idea was almost laughable. He couldn't do this – his hands were sweating at the thought of the Wolfswood.

"What utter horse shit" snarled lord Glover

"You doubt my husband's honesty?" asked Sansa sharply

"I do not doubt lord Tyrion was in the Wolfswood and was injured there. I struggle to believe my son and heir is responsible!"

"What possible reason would lord Tyrion have for accusing Gawan and Robin of such crimes?" asked Sansa. Her face was immovable, but Tyrion didn't miss the tightness in her fingers as she clutched the arm of the throne. The Queen was not at all happy.

"Jealousy!" exploded lord Glover, stepping forwards "Both Gawan and Robin sought your affections, and either would have made a more suitable husband than the Lannister!"

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees when Sansa answered "Tread lightly my lord, I realise you love your son but I will not tolerate insults against my husband"

Lord Glover would not be warned; his hands curling into fists as he turned his gaze to Tyrion "You expect us all to believe this fantasy of yours? That two Northern lords would waste their time on _you_ Lannister? It's bad enough you fancy yourself some sort of hero, but I will not allow you to besmirch my family's name to satisfy your own ego!"

Tyrion's heart crumbled to his boots. They didn't believe him. He knew he wasn't a hero, but he wasn't lying either – everything he'd said was the truth. Lord Glover's eyes were smouldering as he glared at him and Tyrion found his throat closing up as he struggled to defend himself.

The older man's mouth curled upwards, sensing the weakness in his prey "You come North as an exile and our Queen gives you a place here – yet you whisper your traitorous words into her ear, turning her against her own. How many monarchs have you served now Lannister?"

"I'm not lying" tried Tyrion, his voice coming out little more than a whisper

"You look fine to me" he said dismissively "What really happened eh? A couple of cutthroats get hold of you, and you concocted this wild story to save face?"

Heat spread up Tyrion's neck, flooding his face as lord Glover's men sniggered; even lord Manderly cracked a smile.

"Enough" said Sansa. The word snapped through the air like a whip, casting a deathly silence over the room "Let me be very clear; you will not speak to lord Tyrion like that ever again"

"Your Grace, please see reason-" began lord Glover

"One more word and you will join your son" warned Sansa, her voice edged with steel "You've spent the past couple of months hiding in Deepwood Motte, so it's understandable you're behind on things. You did not see the state lord Tyrion was in when he was found in the Wolfswood, nor see the weeks of agonising recovery he endured. It is as a courtesy to you lord Tyrion sought to give you his first-hand account – something I assured him was unnecessary. Everything he has told you is the truth, and justice will be done"

"You sound like you've already made your mind up my Queen" snarled lord Glover "Is there going to be a trial or will you simply feed Gawan to the hounds?"

Tyrion glanced sideways at Sansa, seeing her face had drained of all colour at the reminder of how she'd killed Ramsay. The Queen and the lord of Deepwood Motte had locked eyes, both refusing to back down. Arya's face was unreadable at the other side of the throne unless you knew her well, and Tyrion knew she was considering the different ways to end lord Glover. The room was frozen at an impasse until lord Manderly stepped forwards, laying a hand on his friends shoulder.

"Forgive us your Grace. This has been a difficult time, and I fear the journey has left us weary" he said "this conversation may be better had after there's been a chance to rest"

Sansa's face didn't so much as twitch.

In the end lord Glover backed down, reluctantly bowing his head "Apologies your Grace – I should not have lost control of my temper"

The room held its breath until Sansa gave the tiniest nod "I understand your desire to protect your family, as I'm sure you understand I will protect mine. Do not presume to speak to lord Tyrion in such a manner again – he is your liege lord and the husband I chose. When lord Tyrion bent the knee to me I made him one of us; he is as much a Northerner as you and I – treat him with the respect he deserves. I will not warn you again"

Lord Glover's face contorted in rage for a moment reminding Tyrion sharply of Gawan, before the old lord gained control over himself "As you say, your Grace"

Sansa didn't move her gaze or dismiss him and Tyrion realised what she wanted at the same time as lord Glover.

With great difficulty lord Glover turned to Tyrion, his eyes narrowed "Forgive me lord Tyrion, I should not have spoken to you as I did"

Tyrion wanted nothing more than to leave, but he forced himself to nod, murmuring "Of course my lord"

"Very well" said Sansa "We will revisit this matter when you are adequately rested"

It was as lord Glover's party turned to leave that Lyon made his appearance. The direwolf had been lurking in the shadows in the back of the great hall, but now he bound forwards brushing against Tyrion.

"Is that a direwolf?" asked lord Manderly, both lords pausing to gaze at the golden wolf

"Impossible" hissed lord Glover

"That's lord Tyrion's direwolf" called Arya, her grey eyes glinting dangerously "he won't answer to anyone else"

As if to emphasise the point, Lyon turned his head to face the two lords, letting out a snarl.

"Enjoy your rest my lords" called Sansa, as they hurried out the side door – Lyon watching them hungrily as they went

* * *

Sansa breathed in, allowing the cool Northern air to reach into her body and soothe her worries. The meeting with Lord Glover had gone even worse than expected and seeing lord Manderly had been an unwelcome surprise. Of all the Northern houses they were two of the oldest and greatest – losing their support would be disastrous to her reign and the knowledge they'd both been in Deepwood Motte for the last week or so was enough to make her nauseous. There was no way of knowing what they'd been discussing but the delays at White Harbour and their absence during Bran's visit made it clear they would not support her until the situation with Gawan and Robin was resolved.

The quiet of the Godswood always reminded Sansa of her father – it was one of her favourite places to think and remember her family. Glancing sideways at Tyrion she hoped it might bring him some comfort too.

Tyrion had been determined to meet with lord Glover and officially give his account of what happened in the Wolfswood. They'd all known the old lord would struggle to accept it and likely deny it, but none of them had expected the viciousness with which he'd thrown it back in Tyrion's face. Lord Glover had accused Tyrion of lying about the whole incident, suggesting he'd been kidnapped by common brigands and had blamed Gawan and Robin out of jealousy. The thought made Sansa's blood boil; lord Glover had belittled and mocked her husband – emphasising his Lannister name as if it were a dirty word and suggesting he wasn't one of them.

After the meeting she'd asked Tyrion to join her in the Godswood and the lord of Winterfell had been her silent company ever since. Lyon had come too, though he'd wandered off into the trees while Arya had disappeared to check the security around Gawan. Sansa had hoped the fresh air and quiet of the Godswood would encourage Tyrion to open up to her – she'd seen in the great hall how deeply lord Glover's words had cut him – yet her husband was sat in silence, staring at the snow covered grass beneath their feet. Sansa shifted on the log, angling herself to see Tyrion more clearly.

"My love, won't you talk to me?"

Tyrion flinched at the question, his face contorting in pain. Guilt crept through Sansa for not intervening earlier with lord Glover, but the old man's harsh words had took her by surprise and she'd half-expected Tyrion to put him in his place as easily as he had lord Dormund.

Finally Tyrion turned to face her, his green eyes damp and shining "I'm not lying"

"Sweetheart, no-one thinks you're lying"

Tyrion shook his head "What lord Glover said...I wouldn't do that Sansa. I'd never try and turn you against the Northerners or stir trouble with the other houses. It was Robin and Gawan, I swear it by all the gods. I told you and Arya because I didn't want them to get close to you – they're dangerous, they could hurt you!"

Sansa's heart lurched at the pain spread across Tyrion's face as he pleaded his case; as if he needed to convince her of his intentions. She reached out, cupping the side of his face and brushing her thumb over the rough scar that cut across his cheek.

"I know all that Tyrion. You don't need to convince me of anything – you never have to. I've never doubted your honesty and I won't start now"

He swallowed thickly "They don't believe me. They think I invented the whole thing"

"Lord Glover's in denial and he had absolutely no right to speak to you as he did" she said "I'm so very proud of you. I know talking about the Wolfswood is difficult for you, but you did it anyway. Don't listen to a word they said my love – you are as much a Northerner as they are and you are a hero"

"I'm not a hero"

Sansa hardened her tone "You are. All those women are safe because of you and your sacrifice. The Manderlys and the Glovers did nothing to help them. Before we found you Rose told us the names she'd heard while she was a prisoner – and the names were Robin and Gawan – whether lord Glover wants to believe it or not"

Tyrion nodded though his face never changed from the deep frown that covered it. The sight stirred a deep anger in Sansa. Tyrion had been so ashamed of what happened in the Wolfswood, convinced he'd failed them somehow. Convincing him it wasn't his fault had taken weeks of hard work and looking in his lost green eyes she knew it was an ongoing battle. The accusation he'd lied to make himself look a hero had pierced through his defences to the pool of insecurity underneath - but Tyrion was a hero whether he wanted to be or not, and Sansa wouldn't allow anyone to take that from him. His courage in the battle of Blackwater had been all but forgotten and she knew the way he was tossed aside after that bothered him to this day.

"I thought giving lord Glover my account might make things easier for him to accept, but the word of an exiled dwarf counts for no more than a wildings or eunuchs" he said, bitterness tinging his tone

"Your word matters the most to me; far more than lord Glover's ever could"

A sad smile flitted across his face "Thank you Sansa, but I know I'll never be fully accepted. Nothing can change the fact I was born in the Westerlands, or that my name is Lannister"

Self-hatred lurked in the depths of his eyes; an emotion Sansa had worked hard to banish from her husband. It was improving slowly – a lifetime of ridicule and abuse would take time to heal. She'd noticed it came to the surface whenever Tyrion felt inadequate or felt that he'd done something wrong. Whatever confidence Tyrion had regained over the last couple of months seemed to shake when things changed. He'd avoided Bran's party for the first several days of the visit until relaxing a little near the end. No matter what lord Glover and lord Manderly would not make Tyrion uncomfortable in his castle.

"The North is your home; it belongs to you just as much as it does to them" she told him "I made you one of us when you bent the knee"

"Nothing will ever absolve me of my family's crimes; I'll always be a Lannister"

"You are a Lannister. You're a lion and I wouldn't have it any other way, because you're mine Tyrion" she said, gently brushing the stray tear escaping from his eye "I love you so very much. Please don't listen to them sweetheart; I saw the Wolfswood – I know what you suffered for your duty"

Tyrion's face twisted as if in pain, but he leaned into her touch "When I was Joffrey's hand I tried to improve things in Kings Landing, and do you know what the people called me in the streets – the demon monkey. They truly believed I was the little monster dripping poison into good King Joffrey's ear"

"You are not a monster. It wasn't true then and it isn't true now"

Sansa dropped her hand from his face, taking hold of his hand instead. Tyrion had fallen silent, lost in his own thoughts. The last time she'd been in the Godswood was when Bran showed her the past. Ever since she'd wondered what she was supposed to see that could help against Robin and Gawan. Watching her husband try to sort through his confrontation with lord Glover Sansa wondered if this was the reason for what she saw. Seeing the Wolfswood had broken her heart, but perhaps it was worth it if it meant Tyrion knew she had seen the truth – not that she'd ever doubted him.

"What now?" he asked, sighing heavily "My word will not convince them and we have no evidence. Unless Gawan gives a full confession you'll have to release him"

"That won't happen" said Sansa, squeezing his hand "One way or another Gawan will face justice"

"Sansa that will start a war - is it worth it?"

_'Am I worth it?'_ was the question Tyrion was really asking, and Sansa didn't need to think on her answer to that.

"Without doubt" she said "As your wife it's my duty to protect you; as Queen it's my duty to protect the North. Robin and Gawan are monsters and they will not escape justice"

Tyrion nodded, giving her a half-smile "I wish there was more I could do to help you"

"You do more than enough" she said, leaning forwards to kiss his head "There is some evidence we have. Maester Wolkan will testify to the injuries you suffered, and several guards heard you name Robin and Gawan as your attackers in the Wolfswood. A wildings word doesn't count for much, but Rose did name them to me before you were brought back. We have all of the slave collars taken from the girls...and from you"

"Oh" he said, dropping his gaze "that is certainly evidence of a slave trade if nothing else"

"There are the letters too. With your permission I'd like to show them to lord Glover and lord Manderly"

"Of course" he said "Whatever you need"

"You think it was Gawan writing those letters?"

"I'm quite certain of it"

"We wondered why you stopped getting them, but it must have been when Bronn found Gawan"

"The timing would make sense" said Tyrion, biting his lip "Is there nothing else?"

Sansa hesitated. There was one more thing they would use as evidence but Sansa had only allowed it to be kept on the condition Tyrion never saw it. That had been a naive hope – Tyrion was the lord of Winterfell and it would be foolish to not disclose all of the evidence to him. Particularly when the evidence would be presented to other lords and whispers of it would eventually reach Tyrion.

"There is one more thing" she said "It was found in the Wolfswood by Cley's guards. I wanted to destroy it but Arya convinced me to keep it as evidence"

"What did they find?"

"The hot iron" she said softly

Tyrion paled at her words, subconsciously rolling his left shoulder "Oh...that might be useful, I suppose"

"I think the best thing will be to present all the evidence and witness accounts we have to lord Glover and lord Manderly, before bringing Gawan into the great hall to say what he wants - sort of an informal trial. There's no reason to wait, and I don't want lord Glover and lord Manderly here a moment longer than necessary"

"A good plan" he said, nodding supportively

Despite his words, fear had flooded his face at the prospect of seeing Gawan. Ever since Bronn had brought Gawan to Winterfell, Tyrion had been on edge. Her husband had done his best to hide it but Sansa could see it in the way he kept himself busy all day – spending long hours in the practice yard until he was exhausted. Sansa wasn't aware of any nightmares Tyrion had suffered the past few nights, but every morning she woke to find him tucked tightly against her.

"Sweetheart, I don't think you should be there for the trial"

"It's quite alright Sansa, I want to help you!" he said, forcing a smile

"I know, but given how lord Glover spoke to you this morning it might be better if you're not there. This trial will be a battlefield and I don't want you to have to relive everything. You've already told lord Glover and lord Manderly your side of the story – you've gone above and beyond your duty"

She could see the indecision warring in his eyes; the part of him that didn't want to be there and the pride that told him he had to be.

"Arya and Maester Wolkan will be with me as well as some of the guards" she said "It could take hours and I could use your help to cover my other duties"

Sansa knew very well Tyrion could see through her words, but she hoped he would take the respite she was offering; that he'd let her shield him from this.

To her relief he nodded "Alright, if you're sure you don't need me there"

"There's nothing more you can do in the trial" she assured him "Covering my duties will be a huge help though"

"I'm at your disposal" he said, fiddling with her fingers wrapped around his "there is one thing I'd like to ask you"

"Anything, my love"

Tyrion's green eyes were nervous as he met her gaze "Can I see the hot iron?"

* * *

Arya wasn't sure who looked more nervous between Sansa and Tyrion as she brought in all the evidence they had. She'd joined them for lunch where Sansa had laid out her plans for the afternoon. If there was something they both agreed on it was that lord Glover and lord Manderly needed to go as soon as possible. She ground her teeth thinking about the way they'd spoken to Tyrion. Arya knew her sister had taken Tyrion into the Godswood to talk, and fortunately Tyrion had seemed in a better mood when she joined them for lunch – though the little Lannister had still pulled her aside when she arrived.

"I...I just want you to know, what I told you about the Wolfswood is the truth" he'd said, green eyes begging her to believe him "I wouldn't lie to you or Sansa, or try to cause you problems – I love you both"

"Don't be stupid" she'd told him, flicking his forehead before bending down to pull him into a fierce hug

"I didn't want you to think I was lying because I was jealous of Gawan" he'd murmured

"Why would you be? It's like being jealous of a piece of shit stuck to your boot"

Lord Glover should be thanking all the Gods the knife hadn't left her hand in the great hall. After listening to Tyrion pleading for her trust she'd been more tempted than ever to spill the old lord's blood. She'd been somewhat relieved to know Tyrion wouldn't be at the trial. Watching him talk about the Wolfswood this morning had been difficult enough, but the trial would go over everything in a detail he didn't need to hear again.

Lunch had been cleared away, leaving the table free for them to go through all the preparations for the trial. Arya dropped the sack of slave collars onto the table with the rest of the evidence, gauging Tyrion's reaction. Sansa had quietly explained to her that Tyrion had asked to see the hot iron and the item was sat on the table too, though it was wrapped in cloth.

"This is everything" said Arya, sinking into her seat at the table opposite Tyrion and Sansa.

The Queen had pulled her chair next to her husbands, her blue eyes watching him worriedly.

Tyrion had clearly seen the package with the hot iron, but he moved his attention to the stack of letters instead "This is all of them?"

"Yes" said Sansa "Maester Wolkan's kept track of them and the dates they were received"

Tyrion nodded "It's possible lord Glover will recognise his son's hand-writing"

"He'd deny it even if he saw Gawan write the letters in front of him" grumbled Arya, nudging the sack of collars "These were from all of the girls you rescued"

Sansa reached across to the one with the melted clasp; cut in half by a jagged cut "This is the one they put on you. Maester Wolkan had to cut it off"

Tyrion had lost some of his colour at the sight of the black band "Gawan melted it shut. They did that after the women escaped"

Neither of them seemed willing to unveil the hot iron so Arya reached for it instead. Sansa clearly didn't understand why Tyrion wanted to see it, but Arya did. Of all his injuries this had brought him the most shame. If Arya had suffered as he had, she knew it was the thing that would haunt her the most.

"The guards found this in the Wolfswood after we left with you" said Arya, handing the package over to him

Tyrion accepted it warily, the slightest tremor going through his hand as he pulled the cloth off. The hot iron was the length of a stick with a circle on one end that contained a pattern of curves and lines. It was nothing specific – out of context it was no more than a shape – to Tyrion it was the price he'd paid to save the women from a cruel fate.

He stared at it for a long moment, before asking in a small voice "Does it look like that?"

Sansa's face crumpled in sympathy as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders "It does my love"

Arya glanced away giving Sansa a moment to comfort her husband. She'd seen the brand a couple of times since the Wolfswood but only once since Tyrion was well enough to wear proper clothes again. When she'd walked in on Tyrion and Sansa in bed the other morning, the mark had been visible on his bare back, stoking the fire burning inside her - revenge would be had.

Tyrion swallowed thickly, turning the hot iron in his hand as if analysing it "There's nothing to link it to Robin and Gawan?"

"No big brother - I looked into it"

"This won't convince lord Glover" he said

"Gawan is a monster" said Sansa, rubbing his shoulder "but Robin is the one with any intelligence. The evidence is enough to demand answers - it's entirely possible Gawan will make a mistake under pressure"

Arya nodded, smirking at Tyrion "There'll be plenty of pressure"

The lord of Winterfell forced a smile "Thank you - both of you"

"Don't worry about a thing" said Sansa "We'll handle this"

"Very well" he said, returning the hot iron to the table "I suppose I'd best get on with my own tasks"

"You don't mind covering for me?" asked Sansa

"Not at all"

Tyrion slid from the seat, pausing to kiss Sansa's cheek before making his way around the table.

"See you both later" he said, as Lyon trotted over to join him

As soon as the door shut behind the lord of Winterfell Arya turned her attention to Sansa "He actually thought we'd believe that shit lord Glover was spewing?"

The Queen slumped in her chair "It wasn't that lord Glover didn't believe him, it was that he accused Tyrion of making the whole thing up that upset him so much"

"Even before the Wolfswood Gawan and Robin liked to make fun of Tyrion - lord Glover can't deny that"

"He's going to deny everything" said Sansa "the best chance is getting Gawan to slip up"

"If he doesn't, are you going to free Gawan?"

Sansa's eyes narrowed in annoyance "You know I'm not"

Arya nodded "Just making sure. If lord Glover proves a problem I can visit Deepwood Motte"

"We can't kill every house that opposes us. I'd be no better than Cersei or Daenerys"

"It's up to you" shrugged Arya "I'm only saying the Frey's aren't a problem anymore, and I do enjoy wearing a face"

* * *

The wheelhouse trundled along as it had for last few days, slowly winding through the North on its way to the neck. Bronn shifted on the bench, glancing across at the King. As promised no-one had complained about him spending the first part of the journey in the wheelhouse with Bran, but Bronn doubted he'd last much longer. The break from riding had been nice but Bran was hardly entertaining company - perhaps it was time to switch out with Ser Davos.

"You can ask me" said Bran, his eyes never leaving the window he'd been staring out of for days

"Read minds now too, your Grace?"

Bran's mouth twitched upwards "I don't need to be the three-eyed raven to know you have questions"

"Aye, alright then - why'd ya free Grey Worm?"

The King shook his head "I can't tell you that - but it was necessary"

"Your sisters weren't happy about it"

"Understandably"

Bronn sighed, fiddling with his the dagger on his belt "Reckon they'll forgive ya?"

"In time"

"You aint much for conversation are ya?"

Bran finally pulled his gaze from the window, the same shadows in his dark eyes that had been there since they left Winterfell "I fear I'm not anymore. I do enjoy listening though"

A slither of sympathy wound through Bronn at the look on his King's face. The young man might have strange powers, but he spent all his time in the past - surely it was a lonely place to be?

"What would you want to hear?" he asked

"I once dreamed of being a knight and having great adventures - I'm sure you've had plenty"

Bronn held back from pointing out Bran could see anything. The three-eyed raven probably knew more about Bronn than he did himself.

"Reckon I've got a story or two, your Grace. You ever hear about how I met Tyrion? Your mother weren't a fan of him for sure"

Some of the sadness lifted from Bran's eyes and Bronn found himself smiling as he regaled the King with his adventures in the Eyrie. Perhaps a bit longer in the wheelhouse wouldn't hurt.

* * *

"Lord Glover, Lord Manderly, thank you for joining me" said Sansa, inclining her head as the two old lords took their seats.

They were in the room Sansa used for council meetings, though the tables had been arranged so Sansa and Arya sat at one side with lord Glover and lord Manderly opposite. Maester Wolkan sat at the end of the table to mediate between the groups.

"Certainly your Grace" said lord Manderly "I believe the rest has done us well"

"Why can't I see my son?" asked lord Glover, glaring across at her

"As soon as Gawan was brought before me I had him taken to the dungeon. Nobody has been to see him since, apart from the guards who bring food" said Sansa "I thought given the situation it was best we were all present before anyone spoke to Gawan"

The old man nodded gruffly "When will that be?"

"When we are finished here Gawan will be brought to the great hall where he can present his side of the story. Before that I wish to present the evidence and testimonies against Gawan"

Lord Glover was far from pleased but he said nothing against the plan, it was lord Manderly that spoke "Very well, your Grace. We are keen to see what evidence you have"

Sansa's stomach rolled as she nodded to her sister to proceed. Lord Glover alone would be difficult to deal with, but lord Manderly had been an unwelcome surprise. There was no reason for him to be here, but she could hardly deny him either – he was a member of her council.

Arya reached into the bag of evidence they'd brought, pulling out the stack of letters and sliding them to Maester Wolkan.

"These letters have been coming to Winterfell for weeks addressed to lord Tyrion" said Arya "they stopped around the time Ser Bronn captured Gawan"

"Maester Wolkan, could you read these letters to the council?" asked Sansa

The lords were perfectly capable of reading the letters themselves but Sansa wanted to make sure they heard every vile word. As Maester Wolkan began to read from the first one Tyrion had received Sansa's heart twisted at the cruel words. Tyrion had said he thought it was Gawan writing the letters and having seen Gawan in the Wolfswood Sansa knew he was right – she could hear his voice in the taunting words. By the time Maester Wolkan made it to the last letter, both of the lords had paled considerably.

"It would take a sick mind to write letters such as those" said lord Manderly

"Agreed" said lord Glover "whoever has sent such letters to lord Tyrion wants hanging"

Sansa nodded as Maester Wolkan passed the letters to the lords to view. Lord Manderly's face never changed from disgust at the cruel words, but it was lord Glover she and Arya focused on. It was barely noticeable, but as soon as he saw the first letter recognition flickered through his eyes for the briefest moment.

"Anything familiar?" asked Arya, having noticed the same reaction

"Of course not!" grumbled lord Glover "You think my son would write letters like this? They're unsigned, using no seal"

"We're suggesting nothing" said Sansa "merely presenting the evidence"

"Aye, and what other evidence do you have?" asked lord Glover

The slave collars were presented next with Maester Wolkan giving testimony on the state of the girls when they arrived at Winterfell.

"Your Grace, there is no doubt a slave trade was being operated in the Wolfswood" said lord Manderly spreading his hands "this evidence is unnecessary"

"I believe it's important to cover all bases my lord" said Sansa, pulling out the collar that had been on Tyrion "this collar was around my husband's neck when he was brought back. The clasp was melted shut so he couldn't remove it"

Arya leaned forwards in her seat "I found Tyrion in the Wolfswood and that collar was chained to a post in the snow. They had him tied up like a dog – there was even a sign above the post that said 'the lord of Winterfell'. They humiliated him"

Lord Glover bristled "Whoever took lord Tyrion must be brought to justice. Such acts as you've described are wholly unacceptable"

Sansa curled her fingers into a fist, tension coiling through her. It wasn't enough. Lord Glover would deny all of this, and a rational part of Sansa understood – the evidence was enough to show terrible crimes had taken place but not who committed them.

"Is there anything more?" asked lord Manderly

"There is my lord" she sad, nodding to Arya "After my husband was rescued from the Wolfswood; guards searched the area for evidence. This was brought back to Winterfell"

"A hot iron?" asked lord Glover as Arya passed the implement across to him

"I fail to see how this is evidence of anything your Grace" said lord Manderly "Items such as this are hardly unusual in the North, though the shape at the end is rather odd"

"I bring this as evidence my lords, because that shape on the end is burned into the back of my husband's shoulder"

Lord Glover dropped the hot iron onto the table as if it were on fire "You can't be serious"

Maester Wolkan answered "Regrettably it is true. I tended to lord Tyrion when he was brought back to Winterfell, and I can confirm he was branded on the back of his left shoulder in that shape"

To their credit both of the lords looked thoroughly disgusted at the evidence they had seen. They might not believe Gawan Glover and Robin Flint were responsible but they didn't support the cruelty Tyrion had endured either.

"We heard lord Tyrion was badly injured following the Wolfswood" said lord Manderly "Rumours are running wild throughout the North - it would be helpful to establish the facts"

"Certainly" agreed Sansa "Maester Wolkan will give you his full account, and there are a few witness accounts to hear"

Sansa was relieved Tyrion wasn't here to relive this. Maester Wolkan spoke about the poor condition Tyrion had been in, including every injury and his subsequent illness.

"The damage I saw was shocking my lords" said the old man "and it was quite deliberate - of that there is no doubt. The manner of his injuries is too specific to have been accidental"

The long weeks Tyrion had spent recovering drifted through her mind as Wolkan spoke; Tyrion had been so ashamed. The Wolfswood had left him unable to feed, clothe or wash himself – yet these lords had brushed his suffering off as Tyrion looking fine now. They hadn't been here to see how badly hurt he was; or held him when nightmares woke him in the night. It was a testament to her husband's strength that he looked so well now, but it had been a hard won battle.

Cayn was called in as a witness along with two other guards who had been present in the Godswood.

"Grey Worm went to kill him when we showed up" explained Cayn "we were too far away to stop him"

"What saved lord Tyrion then?" asked lord Glover

"The direwolf" said Arya "I was at the front when we reached Tyrion. The direwolf pup jumped from the bushes and attacked Grey Worm. The spear sliced Tyrion but it didn't impale him"

Lord Manderly eyed the guards "Was there anyone else around lord Tyrion?"

An older guard answered "No my lord. Lord Tyrion was badly hurt but he did say it was Robin Flint and Gawan Glover who hurt him"

"Did you see any evidence either of those lords were there?" barked lord Glover, his eyes igniting at the accusation against his son

"No, my lord - though several of the rescued women mentioned the names Robin and Gawan"

"Thank you for your testimony" said Sansa, inclining her head to the guards "you may leave"

A letter from the captain of lord Cerwyn's guard was read out by Maester Wolkan that detailed the condition of lord Tyrion when he was found and the used state of the farmhouse. Every bit of evidence they had was brought before lord Glover and lord Manderly, but Sansa knew without asking neither believed Robin or Gawan were responsible. Arya had realised the same; her mouth a grim line as she sat beside her.

Lord Glover sighed, rubbing his chin "Your Grace, it is clear lord Tyrion has suffered a terrible ordeal - and you have the support of my house in finding justice for him. Yet I've seen nothing that implicates my son or lord Flint. There is nothing more than two first names heard by wildings and lord Tyrion's assertion he saw them. Given the injuries he suffered is lord Tyrion's word even reliable?"

Lord Manderly nodded "I fear I must agree, your Grace. It's clear dark deeds took place in the Wolfswood, but there is no true evidence of who committed these acts"

Sansa swallowed down the lump in her throat, determined not to focus on her failure. There was still Gawan - still a chance he would incriminate himself. As much as she wanted to focus on what lay ahead, her mind kept flitting back to Tyrion's face when he saw the hot iron.

_'Does it really look like that?'_

She knew Tyrion had looked at it in the mirror, but the placement on his shoulder made it difficult to see clearly. Seeing the hot iron had given him an up close view of the mark, and Sansa had been forced to tell him the truth - that it looked exactly like the piece of metal that had made it.

Hearing everything Tyrion had endured once again was torturous, but it steeled her determination to see justice was carried. Glancing at Arya, she saw her resolve mirrored in her sister's grey eyes.

* * *

"What does that word say?" asked Tyrion, pointing to a spot in the battered book

The little boy furrowed his brow in concentration "cas-tle"

"Good lad" said Tyrion, smiling at Ethan "You know what a castle is?"

He nodded excitedly "Winterfell!"

"Exactly" he said

"Well done Ethan" said Nessa, clapping at her little brothers reading skills

"Dinner's nearly ready" called Tess, bustling about in the tiny kitchen

Tyrion hadn't meant to stay for dinner or even go into Nessa's house but after a long afternoon of meetings; hearing petitions and dealing with business in the village, it had been impossible to refuse Tess's invitation of warming himself by the hearth when he brought Nessa home. That had quickly spiralled into Lyon flopping down for a nap while Ethan and Nessa dragged him into their games. Over the past few months Nessa's reading had rapidly improved and she'd attempted to teach her little brother, despite the boy being two years old - or nearly three as Ethan proudly told him.

"You're getting very good" said Tyrion, as Ethan's smile widened "Nessa's teaching you very well"

"I practice lots!" he said, his mop of dark hair bobbing up and down

It never ceased to amaze Tyrion how these children accepted him so easily. After a couple of games Ethan had pulled out one of the few battered children's books they had, asking Tyrion to read it to him. When Tyrion had first met Nessa the girl had been able to read a few words she'd learned from her father. According to Tess her husband had been able to read a little and would guess the words he couldn't decipher from the worn out books.

"He liked to learn new things" Tess had once told him "A lot like Nessa really"

As much as Tyrion loved visiting Nessa's family and enjoying the warmth they so easily gave to him he always felt somewhat guilty. Like most of the families in the villages they were quite poor - but whatever they had they wanted to share with him.

The wooden table was battered and slightly unbalanced but the children eagerly pulled him towards it at the sound of dinner.

"You not got much food Tyrion" said Nessa, staring gravely at his small plate. Tess had insisted he join them for dinner, but he'd also insisted on not eating much - Winterfell was full of food and Tess's family struggled enough.

He smiled at her "I'll be eating with Sansa later on, when she's finished her duties"

"Queen says if you don't eat I gotta tell her"

Tyrion raised an eyebrow "My own squire working against me!"

"For your own good Tyrion" said Nessa, the adult words sounding strange in her childish voice "Queen Sansa says you got sick cause you didn't eat and sleep properly"

"You sick?" asked Ethan, his brown eyes filling with concern

"I'm perfectly fine" he told the boy, glancing sideways at Nessa "I thought you were afraid of Sansa?"

"She's not so scary"

"Ah, I see. Would you rather squire for Sansa?"

The girl's eyes widened "No! I wanna serve you"

"You'd rather serve a grumpy dwarf than a Queen?"

She nodded eagerly "I don't wanna serve the Queen – I'm gonna be your squire forever"

Warmth flooded Tyrion's chest "Then I will be very well served"

After the confrontation with lord Glover this morning visiting Nessa and her family was a welcome distraction. As much as he hated to admit it the old lord's words had cut him to the bone, sending him into a spiral of panic that the rest of the North might share his view. The last thing Tyrion wanted to do was cause more problems for Sansa, and as much as he wished he could be there to support her now part of him accepted it was for the best. Tyrion had thought he was ready to face the Wolfswood – that the slow weeks of healing had allowed him to move on from what had happened. Unfortunately this morning had proven only that his body had healed while his mind hadn't. Ever since Gawan arrived at Winterfell, Tyrion's dreams had taken a bloody turn. Even walking through the castle he jumped at every shadow – as if Gawan had slipped free from the dungeon to find him.

When the plates had been completely cleaned of food, Tyrion insisted on helping Tess clean up while the children doted on Lyon.

"Nessa and Ethan are rather attached" observed Tess, pointing him towards the cupboard her few plates were stored in

"Lyon loves the attention" said Tyrion "He's been rather sad since King Bran's party left – he quite enjoyed all the ear rubs and attention"

"They enjoy giving Lyon their attention" she agreed "but I meant they were attached to you"

"I am something of a novelty"

Tess laughed lightly "They adore you"

Tyrion's face flushed at her words but it was difficult to deny it. Ethan had all but climbed into his lap when they were reading, while Nessa had been lying against him too. Nessa was his squire and when she was fulfilling her duties she was as stoic and dependable as every other Northerner. As soon as she was back with her family she was a child again – a child who cared a great deal for him. Even little Ethan had followed his sister's lead, asking him to play or read whenever he saw him. Never had Tyrion expected to find such acceptance in the North, and he'd be lying if Nessa and Ethan didn't remind him of his own dearly departed niece and nephew. It had been years since he last saw them, but the pain of their deaths still hurt. It was impossible to not miss the way Myrcella would happily wrap her arms around him – never ashamed of her dwarf uncle. Or how Tommen would eagerly ask him for stories when his mother wasn't around; his nephew would have loved Lyon.

A smile pulled at Tyrion's mouth as the children eagerly waved him over to join their game. What did it matter if the other lords and ladies of the North didn't like him? His duty was to Winterfell and its people. All he had to do with the other lords was sit by the Queen's side as her dutiful husband. If the Starks and the people of Winterfell accepted him, did he really care what a couple of stuffy old lords thought?

* * *

Bile crawled up Sansa's throat as Gawan Glover was brought into the great hall. The crown rested heavily on her head as she sat the throne. Arya sat to her left while lord Glover and lord Manderly were in seats over to her right. Winterfell guards lined the hall with several of lord Glover's guards also present. Maester Wolkan was positioned at a small desk in the corner, recording notes.

Gawan's hands were in chains as he stood before the throne, his dark hair scruffy and overgrown – he had the look of a man who'd been living off the land for weeks.

"Gawan of house Glover" called the Queen, her voice echoing around the hall "You are accused of kidnapping, slavery, torture and treason. At my order you were taken prisoner to answer for these crimes. If you are found guilty you will face the consequences of your actions"

Her voice echoed around the hall, though her eyes landed on the black banners with the golden lion mixed between her Stark banners. Tyrion had suggested earlier they take them down so as not to further aggravate lord Glover and lord Manderly but Sansa wouldn't hear of it. He was the lord of Winterfell and she was proud to display his sigil. Reluctantly, she dragged her eyes back to Gawan; steeling herself to lay out the full accusations against him.

"Lord Tyrion gave his testimony to the council this morning where he claimed he was kidnapped between the village and Winterfell and taken to the Wolfswood. He further claimed you and Robin Flint held him prisoner along with forty women you intended to sell into slavery" she continued, knowing Tyrion's words were the truth but bound by her role as Queen to be impartial "Lord Tyrion helped these women escape before he was recaptured, at which point he claims you and Robin Flint tortured him for days before leaving him at the mercy of the Unsullied Captain Grey Worm. How do you answer these accusations?"

"Queen Sansa" said Gawan, dropping to one knee "I beg your forgiveness"

Sansa's heart leapt "You confess to these charges?"

"No, your Grace" he said, raising his shaggy head "Robin and I were hunting when we heard lord Tyrion had disappeared. Of course we made to return to Winterfell to assist you in searching for him, but then we heard there was a warrant out for us and we'd been named as lord Tyrion's kidnappers"

Ice curled through Sansa's stomach as she stared down at her former friend. His mouth was turned downwards and his eyes heavy with guilt as he knelt before the throne – the sight sickened her, for Sansa knew it was nothing more than a thin mask. She'd seen the Wolfswood herself, she'd seen this beast brutalise Tyrion. Yet the boy standing before her was playing the part he was expected to – and lord Glover was readily buying into it.

"Why did you not return home?" asked lord Glover, straightening in his seat to hear his son's excuse

Gawan stood once more "Father, I'm sorry – but I panicked. Lord Tyrion is the Queen's husband and I know how she cares for him. Robin and I didn't think anyone would believe our word over his"

Lord Glover nodded, struggling to hide the smirk on his face "It was immature to run, but given lord Tyrion's status I can understand your concern"

"It wasn't only lord Tyrion who named you as present in the Wolfswood" cut in Sansa "My husband rescued forty women who were to be sold into slavery – a mixture of wildings and girls from the local villages. The names they heard while held prisoner were Robin and Gawan. They said these men sounded highborn"

Gawan shook his head "I'm sorry your Grace, I know nothing about that – only that lord Tyrion was investigating the stories of missing girls"

"Grey Worm was taken prisoner in the Wolfswood, but unfortunately escaped a few days ago" said Sansa, unable to hide the bitterness in her tone "He was questioned several times and claimed he made a deal with you and Robin to buy Tyrion"

"Your Grace, the word of a foreign savage is hardly reliable - let alone one that isn't here to give his own testimony" said lord Glover, glaring sideways at her

Arya stiffened next to her, her voice barely a whisper "We know who's to blame for that"

"Queen Sansa, I swear to you I've never met anyone called Grey Worm nor would I attempt to sell the lord of Winterfell. To do so would be treason and my loyalty is to you, your Grace"

A bead of sweat trickled down Sansa's spine. This story was rehearsed; designed to put on a show that would fool the lords and make Tyrion look a liar. No matter how much Sansa told Tyrion he was one of them, old loyalty ran deep in the North; Gawan's word would hold more weight with many houses.

Sansa breathed in, forcing her voice to remain neutral "To be clear you deny running a slavery business in the Wolfswood and kidnapping innocent women?"

"Yes, your Grace"

"You deny kidnapping the lord of Winterfell - Tyrion Lannister?"

"I do"

"You deny the allegations you held Tyrion Lannister prisoner and tortured him for days, while plotting with Robin Flint to sell him to the Unsullied Captain Grey Worm?"

"Yes, your Grace" said Gawan, glancing around the hall "Might I ask how lord Tyrion fares? I heard he'd been badly hurt"

Sansa's knuckles turned white as Gawan looked innocently up at her. She could see it in his eyes; the creature was taunting her.

"Your answers have been noted" said Sansa stiffly

"Your Grace, I don't believe Gawan had anything to do with this" said lord Manderly, leaning forwards to catch her eye

Lord Glover nodded eagerly "He's explained things well enough. Hiding from the crown was stupid, but he's young. Given what he was accused of it was understandable he was scared"

Sansa ignored him, turning back to Gawan "You have nothing else to say?"

"What else can he say?" snapped lord Glover "The Lannister's clearly lying"

"Watch yourself" she warned

"Your Grace-"

"It's alright father" cut in Gawan "I've heard lord Tyrion suffered terrible things – enough to break any man. I didn't treat him well when he arrived at Winterfell, it's understandable he views me as an enemy. I'd like to apologise to him if possible, for the jokes I made at his expense. I had nothing to do with what happened in the Wolfswood, but I've heard trauma can change a man. Whatever help I can offer is yours"

Bile burned hotly at the back of Sansa's throat. She'd spent enough time around liars to see recognise them, yet Gawan had lived under her roof for months without her seeing through him. The walls of ice she'd built to protect herself had blinded her to everything, but now they were gone she could see Gawan for what he really was; another Ramsay, another Joffrey – another monster to threaten her family.

The hall fell silent awaiting her verdict. She could give the order now and Arya would kill Gawan before anyone could stop her. There were enough Winterfell guards in the room to defend her and Arya from lord Glover, lord Manderly and their men. The beast could be gone in a minute – but it would unleash chaos across the North.

"You have given your side of the story, and lord Tyrion has given his" said Sansa "Evidence was presented to the council earlier today which neither proved nor disproved your innocence. As Queen I must consider all that is brought to me equally and impartially, therefore you will remain a prisoner of the crown until I have made my decision"

Lord Glover spun to her, his face etched in anger "My son is innocent"

The words hurt Sansa's throat as they left her mouth "It appears so. Nevertheless this situation has drawn attention from across the North. I would like the time to review everything in detail before I send official word of my ruling to the other houses"

The old lord's mouth turned up at the corner "Of course, your Grace – I'm sure Gawan understands?"

"Certainly Father. Whatever you need from me your Grace" he said, inclining his head "please pass on my best wishes to lord Tyrion"

Sansa signalled for the guards to remove Gawan, her stomach churning as he left. Lord Glover had brightened considerably at the knowledge his son and heir would likely be freed in a couple of days. That wouldn't happen – Gawan would never leave Winterfell, but Sansa was running out of options that wouldn't start a war.

* * *

_Tyrion tossed and squirmed on the bed, fear surging through him. He shot awake, his eyes darting around the dark room._

_It was just a dream; a terrible nightmare._

_"Sansa?" he said, rubbing his eyes "Are you awake?"_

_He knew it was selfish, but his dream had been horrible. Tyrion turned on his side to wake Sansa, seeking the warmth and comfort only she could provide._

_He reached across, lightly shaking her "Sansa?"_

_There was something damp beneath his hand as he shook Sansa. Before he could work out what it was a torch flickered to life across the room, illuminating the pool of blood spread over the still Queen._

_"No!" he cried, his heart shattering as he shook her "Sansa, wake up!"_

_Tyrion pushed the sheets against the wounds but her body was a mess of stab wounds and it was far too late. Her face was pale and still; the light in her blue eyes permanently extinguished as they stared at the ceiling._

_"Don't leave me" he begged, cradling her cold face as tears spilled from his eyes_

_The torch at the side of the room moved closer to the bed, until Tyrion could see the grinning face of Gawan Glover "I'll never leave you my pet. It's just us now"_

Tyrion jerked upright in bed, his eyes flying open. Desperately he turned on his side to check on Sansa. The pounding of his heart relaxed somewhat at the sight of her chest rising and falling steadily. The room wasn't as dark as in his dream. Moonlight slipped in through the window, casting a soft glow over his sleeping wife.

It was just another dream; Sansa was fine.

He relaxed a little, propping himself up to watch Sansa sleep. Gawan was like a ghost haunting his every move. He hadn't seen the cruel boy at all since he arrived at Winterfell but his presence followed him like a dark cloud. Dreams like that had become the norm the last few nights.

Tyrion reached out, tracing his hand down Sansa's face and relishing the warmth he found there.

The trial hadn't gone well.

Sansa had spared few words for it when she eventually returned to their chambers, but he suspected that was for his benefit. It wasn't fair that Sansa had to play politics like this. She had seen the Wolfswood and knew the truth, but without physical evidence she was stuck between letting Gawan go free and starting a war.

"I love you" he whispered softly "I'd do anything for you"

Tyrion hated how powerless he was to help Sansa. The Queen never complained about the burden of ruling or lost her patience with him when he was weak - she took everything in her stride as a true Queen.

The imagery of his dream was impossible to shake. Every shadow seemed to contain Gawan's smirking face, just waiting for him to close his eyes before killing what remained of his heart. Tyrion scooted closer to Sansa, tugging the covers over them as he gently laid his head on her chest, draping his arm across her. Sansa didn't seem to mind if he got close to her in the bed, and didn't wake as he positioned himself. Her heartbeat sang in his ear as he closed his eyes.

"I'll protect you" he murmured "I promise"

It might have been a nightmare, but Tyrion would never rest unless he knew Sansa was safe. This way, if anyone wanted to kill Sansa they'd have to go through him first.

* * *

When Sansa stirred to life in the early morning sun the first thing she noticed was the weight on her. For the briefest moment panic flashed through her that she was in bed with Ramsay. Her eyes darted open, quickly noticing the mess of golden curls brushing against her face. The sudden tension eased out of Sansa at the sight of her husband lying on top of her.

For the last few days she'd woken to Tyrion cuddling against her, and while she loved having him so close Sansa suspected it was being driven by nightmares. Unlike the early days of their marriage Tyrion no longer curled up as far from her as possible, though he didn't usually cling to her either – unless they both fell asleep like that.

Something had clearly upset him in the night. Tyrion's head was just below her jaw while his right arm was draped across her. The lord of Winterfell was fast asleep, a frown on his face as he drooled onto her shift. If Sansa needed further evidence of Tyrion's inner distress she needn't look any further than the direwolf lying across her husband. While Tyrion was half on top or her, Lyon was lying across him – also managing to drool on her shift.

"My love you can share your fears with me" she whispered, extracting her hand from the covers to brush through the back of Tyrion's hair

After Gawan's trial yesterday Sansa hadn't had any more energy to spare on the cruel boy. Everything had happened as she feared it would, leaving her little option but to kill Gawan without the other lords agreement. At best it would result in a war with house Glover and possibly house Manderly – at worst the North would tear itself apart and a rebellion would rise against her.

There were no good options and eager to escape from the situation she'd asked Tyrion to tell her about his day instead. Mercifully he seemed to understand her need for a break and had launched into a cheerful tale of what he'd spent his afternoon doing.

In the light of day she reluctantly turned her mind back to the problem of Gawan. There had to be something she'd missed. Bran had shown her the Wolfswood saying it was the only help he could offer and there was something she was supposed to see – yet Sansa had no idea what. After the way lord Glover had spoken to Tyrion yesterday she'd thought Bran's reason was to simply show her the Wolfswood so she knew the truth. Somehow it didn't seem quite right; Sansa hadn't doubted Tyrion in the first place.

Gawan hadn't made any mistakes yesterday. Everything he'd said had been believable, giving her and Arya nothing to work with. His excuse for hiding all these weeks was a bit flimsy but he'd played the part of naive young man well enough to convince his father and lord Manderly. Disgust stirred in Sansa; Gawan had been brazen enough to fake sympathy for Tyrion - going so far as to ask her to pass on his best wishes. As if she'd do that to her husband; it would make a mockery of everything Gawan had done to him.

"You were right" she breathed, gently stroking Tyrion's face "Gawan is like Joffrey"

It seemed a lifetime ago when she'd asked Tyrion his opinion on her potential suitors before telling him he would be her husband. His analysis of the young lords had been sharp and accurate. Joffrey, like Gawan, had been good at wearing a mask in public, hiding the monster beneath it all. She'd seen the way Joffrey acted around Margaery and her family, compared to the way he acted around her. As soon as they were out of sight Joffrey's thin mask had crumbled and she saw his real face. Gawan was no different. The young lord who'd tried to win her affection and the monster who tortured Tyrion for fun were like two completely different people.

Her hand stilled against Tyrion as her heartbeat sped up.

Sansa knew monsters better than anyone. Ramsay and Joffrey had been quite different, but beneath it all they were the same – all monsters were.

* * *

Sansa's blue eyes bubbled with concern as she watched him "Are you sure about this?"

Tyrion nodded, forcing a smile for Sansa "Quite sure"

Arya patted his back reassuringly "You've got this Tyrion. You're a lion and he's nothing"

All morning they'd talked about this and Tyrion had been set on doing it - yet now the time had come his fears were running rampant. He was the lord of Winterfell; there was no reason for him to be afraid of Gawan. The concern on Sansa's face was hardly helping matters.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea" said Sansa, biting her lip

"I need to do this Sansa" he said, fumbling to remove the sword from his hip - along with Bronn's dagger.

"Here, let me do it" said Arya, tugging him over and deftly removing the weapons

Tyrion was keenly aware of the loss of his sword and the subsequent vulnerability spreading through him. It was the smart thing to do - bringing weapons to see Gawan Glover wasn't a good idea. If the cruel boy got hold of one there was no telling what he could do.

"Bring Lyon with you" said Sansa

"He's quite prepared"

Arya grinned supportively at him "Don't worry Tyrion - you'll be fine"

The golden wolf barked in agreement, brushing against his side. Tyrion tried to bring his mind under control. He had to do this, no matter how much the thought made his stomach twist. When he'd made the decision Sansa and Arya had insisted on getting him ready. His tunic had been changed for one covered in golden lions, his hair had been brushed and Arya had spent the last twenty minutes giving him a pep talk.

He'd intended to wear his weapons as he was now in the habit of doing; but Arya had gently pointed out it might not be a good idea.

"You're sure?" asked Sansa, for what could have been the tenth time

"You worry too much dear wife" he said "It'll be fine"

"That's the spirit" said Arya, squeezing his shoulder "You're the lord of Winterfell - the Queen's husband. Show him you're a lion Tyrion"

She stepped back as Sansa bent down to meet his eye level. The Queen brushed her hands over his shoulders, smoothing out his tunic.

"I'll be fine" he promised, giving her a half-smile

"I know you will" she said "my brave husband"

Sansa reached into the folds of her gown before placing her hand over his chest. She kissed his forehead before stepping back, leaving a silver direwolf pin on his tunic.

"You'll always be a lion" she said, smiling "but you're a wolf too"

Tyrion's throat tightened at the gesture, heat pricking at the back of his eyes "Thank you"

"We'll see you later" said Arya, heading to the door.

Sansa hesitated a moment later before following her sister, leaving just Tyrion and Lyon in their chambers. The direwolf whined, tapping his paws impatiently.

"Just a moment" said Tyrion, moving to the mirror in the corner of the room

It was something he tended to avoid, but today he wanted to see himself. Studying his reflection, Tyrion thought perhaps he didn't look as bad as he imagined. His golden hair had grown out since the Wolfswood, looking far less severe than it had originally been cut. The scar across his face was still quite red, but no longer as raw looking. Sansa had insisted he wear his good clothes - a show of power she called it. The black tunic fit him well and the golden lions stood out across the sleeves and chest. His eyes were drawn to the silver pin gleaming above his heart; where the hand of the Queen badge had once sat. At one time that pin had meant the most to him, but now it seemed trivial compared to the direwolf that made it clear to all he was part of the Stark family.

Turning away from the mirror, Tyrion called to his friend "Ready Lyon?"

Winterfell hummed with activity as Tyrion made his way through its many corridors. Every step brought him closer to facing the creature that haunted his dreams, causing his heart to beat quicker in his chest. When the door to the dungeon finally came into view Tyrion's hands were trembling.

"My lord" greeted the two guards on the door

Tyrion inclined his head in greeting "I'm here to see Gawan Glover"

He was the lord of Winterfell and short of an order from Sansa the guards would obey him. The two men stood aside, leaving Tyrion to descend into the dungeon with only Lyon at his heels. A few torches in the wall cast an orange glow around the area as he moved past the empty cells to the one Grey Worm had occupied several days ago. Gawan's cell was marginally better lit than the others, and given his status he'd been given a thicker blanket to cover the thin bed on one side of the room.

Tyrion planted his feet outside the bars of the cell, curling his hands into fists as he saw Gawan. The young lord was wearing ragged breeches with his grey tunic hanging open over his shift. The dark scraggy beard covering his face had grown out a little, as had his wild hair - he was a far cry from the young man who'd tried to win the Queen's hand, but this Gawan looked far more real.

The boy was lying on the bed, though he lifted his head at the sound of his visitor.

"Lord Tyrion" he said, his dark eyes lighting up in surprise "it's good to see you"

Tyrion's skin crawled as Gawan pushed up from the bed, coming to stand at the bars of the cell.

"It's nice to see you where you belong" said Tyrion

Gawan wasn't completely stupid; he pushed his head against the bars glancing into the darkness of the corridor.

"We're quite alone" said Tyrion, gesturing to Lyon behind him "Apart from my friend here"

The direwolf had followed Tyrion's instruction to sit against the back wall, though a growl erupted from him at Gawan's gaze.

"I heard rumours you had a direwolf" snorted Gawan "Is that thing supposed to scare me?"

"Wolves are quite vicious"

"That thing's as runty as you"

"Grey Worm lost a couple of fingers to him" said Tyrion

Gawan appeared to be satisfied they were alone, for when he turned his gaze back to Tyrion all traces of the young lord were gone - replaced by the monster that lurked beneath.

"Look at you - all dressed up like a proper little lord" said Gawan "Does Sansa let you sleep in the bed, or is it on the floor like the docile little lion you are?"

"That's not really your concern"

"Isn't it?" he said, grinning at him "You're my pet, not Sansa's - when I'm free I'll train you properly this time"

Tyrion's stomach rolled "I'm not your pet"

"Yes you are" he said "I wondered where you were hiding. I asked Sansa to pass on my best wishes"

Tyrion forced his voice to be steady "I am the lord of Winterfell and you are nothing"

Gawan's face twisted into a snarl "Big words for such a little man. I know you're afraid of me"

"You're nothing more than a pretender. My own nephew was a mad King - you think you scare me boy?"

Before Tyrion could react, Gawan's hand shot out between the bars, grabbing a handful of his tunic and dragging him in.

"I know I scare you" he said, cruelty dancing in his dark eyes "Nobody believes you Lannister. I'm surprised you told them what happened in the Wolfswood, but I guess an imp has no shame - I'm more surprised Sansa believed you"

"I told them the truth - that you're a monster"

"What good did it do you? I'll leave here and return to Deepwood Motte. Sansa needs my father's support more than she needs to keep her pet lion happy"

Panic rose in Tyrion as he was trapped against the bars "Given up on your slavery business then? Was that before or after Robin abandoned you?"

"Robin didn't abandon me imp - we had different tasks"

"He didn't want his mad dog around you mean"

Gawan's hand tightened, rattling him against the bars "Such disrespect. Robin will be King and then I'll be free to do as I like. No more duty or listening to father prattle on. The wolves will die slowly, but not you - you'll be my pet"

"You think your father and the North will just accept that?"

"They'll have no choice. The icy bitch isn't as popular as she thinks - too much time in the south" he said "Robin will rule and I can restart our slave trade - starting with the girls you let go"

"You have a sister a similar age to those girls. You actually think your father will let you do that?"

Gawan's face turned downwards "My father won't be around to stop me, and my sister will be sold too. Highborn girls get the best price"

"You're sick" said Tyrion, squirming in the mad boy's grip "Sansa trusted you"

"Enough about the bloody Queen - you're boring me" said Gawan, his eyes studying him like a predator "I'm glad Grey Worm didn't kill you. It bothered me that you never screamed during our time together - I'd like to hear a lion cry"

"Let go of me" said Tyrion, pulling back from Gawan's grip

The boy tightened his hold, lifting Tyrion so he was on his toes. His face twisted into a smirk "I'll train you properly this time pet"

The feeble strength Tyrion had pulled together to come down here was rapidly crumbling under his fear. How could it not, when he was face to face with one of the monsters that haunted him? Gawan was going to go free - he was going to kill his family.

Tyrion was so trapped in the terror spreading through him he didn't notice Gawan's beaming smile until a hand closed around his groin.

"You'll be much more obedient when all this is gone" said Gawan, squeezing his manhood "Don't worry, I've been practicing - or I was until that bastard sellsword found me"

Trapped against the bars of the cell with Gawan's hand grabbing his breeches, a new emotion raged through Tyrion that overwhelmed his fear. Before he realised what he was doing, Tyrion had pulled his right hand back, firing it through the bars and into the face of Gawan Glover. The mad boy reeled back as blood spurted from his nose, a maniacal laugh escaping him.

"That all you've got imp?"

Tyrion stumbled back from the bars, his hands shaking as he reached for the key in his tunic pocket. Lyon lurched towards him, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

"Stay" said Tyrion, throwing himself at the lock and ramming the key inside

He was vauely aware of Lyon reluctantly returning to his place, but Tyrion's focus was on the laughing boy in the cell. The lock fell open with a click as Tyrion staggered into the cramped space, dragging the cell door shut behind him. The lock was still open but it didn't matter - the guards on the door wouldn't allow Gawan past.

Tyrion's breath came in short bursts as he stared at Gawan Glover. Blood covered his face and had splattered onto his tunic, but Gawan was still grinning.

"You'll need to be punished for that" laughed Gawan

"Shut up" growled Tyrion, launching himself at Gawan

The boy laughed as if Tyrion were no more than a child having a temper tantrum. The lord of Winterfell aimed for his knees, toppling the young lord who crashed onto his back against the floor.

As soon as he was down Tyrion scrambled on top of him, driving his fist into the boy's face "I'm not your pet!"

Gawan's head jerked back under the force of the blow, though it did nothing to erase the smile from his face.

"Yes you are" sang Gawan, grabbing at Tyrion's shoulders "I'll enjoy hearing you cry"

"Shut up!"

Gawan grunted as he struggled to avoid the blows "You're not as weak as I remember imp - still no match for a real man though"

They grappled on the ground, Tyrion landing several more punches until Gawan gained the upper hand. Lyon had abandoned his post, barking furiously at the bars that stopped him reaching his master. Gawan's face was covered in blood as he finally dislodged Tyrion, immediately throwing his weight on top of him

"You'll always be my pet" mocked Gawan, forcing Tyrion flat on his stomach as his hands clawed at his tunic "my mark will always be on you"

The direwolf pin pressed against Tyrion's chest as he struggled to free himself. It was hopeless - he might have taken Gawan by surprise but the boy's weight was too much to move. Gawan's hand had just made contact with the brand on his shoulder when the weight suddenly left him. Tyrion raised his head to see lord Glover had lifted his son by the front of his shift and slammed him against the wall of the cell. Lyon's growl drew Tyrion's attention to the door of the cell where Sansa, Arya and lord Manderly stood. The little wolf darted to his side, licking his face and standing between him and Gawan.

"Father..." stammered Gawan, the colour draining from his face "he attacked me"

The old lord slammed him against the wall "Enough lies!"

"No, father – I wouldn't..."

"You disgrace yourself, your family - you make a fool of me"

Tyrion crawled to his knees as Arya's hand closed around his arm pulling him to his feet. Sansa's attention was on Gawan and his father but her eyes kept darting to him in concern. Tyrion smiled shakily at her, signalling he was ok.

"Father it's not what it looks like" tried Gawan

Robett Glover was shaking with anger as he stared down his son.

"We saw everything!" he roared "We were in the passage behind your cell. We all heard exactly what you said - we saw exactly what happened!"

Gawan's face contorted at the knowledge he'd been tricked, his eyes darting over his father's shoulder to find Tyrion.

"You little bastard!" snarled Gawan

"Don't blame him for what you've done – you've brought this on yourself!" said lord Glover, pressing Gawan tighter against the wall "I defended you; I'd have gone to war for you"

"The imp's lying" tried Gawan "Sansa and Arya too – they're out to get me!"

Lord Glover's voice dropped to a cold whisper "Still you dishonour me"

Tyrion's mouth twitched upwards as he tried to get his ragged breathing under control. Arya had her hand on needle, but it was hardly necessary - lord Glover was restraining his son. Her exploration of the tunnels had led to the discovery of a narrow passage that ran just behind and slightly above the cells. Presumably it had once been used to spy on prisoners and it had certainly saved them. Small gaps in the top of the brickwork were enough for the lords to see and hear everything that had just happened – hardly noticeable unless you were looking for them.

"Is this enough evidence my lords?" asked Sansa, her blue eyes icy as she looked at Gawan

"Certainly" said lord Manderly, hovering just at the edge of the cell as though to disassociate with lord Glover

"Father, please…" tried Gawan

Lord Glover ignored him, turning to the Queen "Yes, your Grace"

"Father, they'll kill me" pleaded Gawan

Lord Glover dropped Gawan, disgust curling over his mouth as he moved out of the cell. Tyrion and Arya quickly followed with Lyon, making sure the door was locked behind them. The boy's bloodied face appeared at the bars, panic spreading through his eyes as he followed his father's retreating form.

"I'm your son!" he shouted

The old lord turned, his voice devoid of emotion "I have no son"

* * *

Sansa shifted in her seat, waiting impatiently for lord Manderly to finish speaking. It had been about an hour since the incident with Gawan and the Queen was desperate to see her husband. As soon as they left the dungeon lord Glover had asked to be excused.

"You understand that Gawan has confessed to the charges and will face the punishment?" she'd said

"Will you kill him?" he'd asked, his voice empty

"He will die"

The old lord had nodded "Good. I don't ever want to see that beast again"

Gawan's conversation with Tyrion had gone better than Sansa could have hoped. The boy might have been able to wear a mask in public, but Sansa knew monsters – as soon as he was alone with his victim the real Gawan had come out. It hadn't taken much provoking for him to start taunting Tyrion, carelessly confessing to the horrors he'd committed. Gawan had effectively signed his own death warrant. Getting lord Glover and lord Manderly to agree to the plan hadn't been easy, but lord Glover had truly believed his son was innocent. Watching his face change as he saw what his heir really was had been both vindicating and saddening. Lord Glover seemed to age a decade as they observed Gawan and Tyrion.

The biggest political problem had been resolved, but there were several smaller issues to address before Gawan died. Looking at lord Glover's tired face she'd known it was a conversation that could wait until the next day.

Her biggest concern was Tyrion. Blood was splattered across his tunic and he'd been white as a sheet when they emerged from the dungeon. Sansa had wanted nothing more than to take him upstairs and check he was ok, but her duty as Queen had held her captive. Tyrion had quietly asked if he could go as soon as lord Glover was gone and she'd quickly agreed with the promise to be there soon. Watching him wander down the corridor with Lyon was one of the hardest things she'd done, but if she'd given into her instincts and pulled Tyrion into her arms then and there she'd have never let go.

It wasn't easy but Sansa forced her mind to focus on more practical matters for the next hour. Maester Wolkan had been summoned to write out a statement lord Glover would be asked to sign. Arya and lord Manderly had joined her to ensure the events depicted in the statement were accurate – in effect it was a witness statement and it needed to be done as quickly as possible.

"Anything else your Grace?" asked lord Manderly, as the Maester finished his notes

"Not today" she said "The council will meet tomorrow to decide on how we proceed, but there's been enough done today"

"Quite so, your Grace" he agreed, his chins wobbling "I fear lord Glover will need some time to deal with this"

Arya nodded "Finding out your son is a depraved monster must be difficult"

"That will be all, my lord" said Sansa, pushing up from her chair "I appreciate your time"

The old lord took the hint, hurrying to his feet "Of course your Grace"

"I shall compile these notes into a proper statement your Grace" said Wolkan "Is lord Tyrion in need of my services?"

Sansa shook her head "Thank you Maester, but I will take care of him. I shall summon you if there are any issues"

The old man bowed his head, his chain clinking as he gathered up the notes and followed lord Manderly out the door. Sansa and Arya quickly followed, relief flooding the Queen that she could remove her crown for the remainder of the day.

"That was a clever plan" said Arya

"I'm only sorry it asked so much of Tyrion" said Sansa

"I think he needed it. Punching Gawan must have been a relief" said Arya, her eyes narrowing "The way Gawan spoke to him…"

"I know" said Sansa "That was the Gawan I saw in the Wolfswood. I think that's what I was supposed to see"

"I could have seen that. Bran didn't have to make you do it"

Sansa shook her head as they made their way upstairs "No, it had to be me. I spent a long time around monsters like Gawan - I know what they want. It bothered Gawan in the Wolfswood that he couldn't get a reaction out of Tyrion; letting him see all his torture hadn't had any effect would infuriate him"

That wasn't entirely true - they both knew the Wolfswood had deeply affected Tyrion, but Gawan wouldn't look beyond the image Tyrion had projected. He'd seen a strong lord unbothered by his experience and it had freed the beast in Gawan.

"Are you coming to see Tyrion?" asked Sansa as they turned down the corridor towards the family rooms

"I would, but I'm fairly sure it's you he'll want" said Arya, turning towards her rooms "tell him I'll see him in the morning and to put some ice on his hand"

"Ice?"

"Yes, ice - Gawan has a thick head"

Arya said nothing more as she disappeared down the corridor, leaving Sansa to hurry towards her own chambers. The Queen took a brief detour to find a servant, giving the woman instructions to bring ice and other supplies to their chambers before finally reaching the door. Sansa eased it open, her eyes searching for her husband.

The lord of Winterfell was sat in the small window ledge, gazing across the North with Lyon lying across his lap.

He turned at the sound of the door opening, a smile flitting across his face "Hello Sansa"

Sansa wasted no time reaching him, drawing his face to hers for a kiss.

"I'm sorry it took me so long" she said "I needed to make sure everything was set before I could relax"

"And?"

"It's done" she said, allowing a small smile "Maseter Wolkan is writing up the statement of what happened for lord Glover and lord Manderly to sign tomorrow. It will take a couple of days to sort out the details and spread word of the ruling but Gawan will die - I promise"

"Good" he said, breathing out a little

Sansa raked her eyes over Tyrion. He was still dressed in his blood-covered tunic and if she had to guess she'd say he hadn't moved since he got back here. A little colour had returned to his face, though his eyes were distant. Guilt stirred in Sansa. When the beginnings of the plan had taken root this morning she'd quickly sought the help of Tyrion and Arya to make it a reality. Tyrion had readily agreed to go and speak with Gawan - despite what the cruel boy had done to him. Sansa hated asking so much of him, but she knew no-one else would get Gawan to drop his guard.

"Lyon's not very happy with me" said Tyrion "I think he hoped to get a couple of fingers"

The wolf huffed, nudging his nose against him.

"He was in quite the panic when we got around to the cell door" agreed Sansa

Their plan had rested on Tyrion provoking the truth from Gawan and they'd given him the key in case he had need of it. Sansa hadn't expected Tyrion to actually use it, let alone go into the cell.

"Are you ok?" she asked, brushing her hand through his hair

"I'm fine" he said quickly

Sansa could see his left hand but not his right that was hidden by Lyon.

"What about your hand?"

He grimaced at the question, reluctantly lifting the limb so she could see it. Sansa drew in a sharp breath at the sight. The hand was bruised and swollen, with the knuckles split open and covered in dried blood. She carefully turned the hand, inspecting the damage.

"That must hurt" she said

"It's quite alright" he said

Tyrion was withdrawing from her; she could see it in the short answers and distant eyes. Confronting Gawan had clearly brought back unpleasant memories and he was retreating to a place no-one could hurt him.

'Go away inside'

The advice she'd seen Jamie give his little brother in childhood whispered through her mind, shining a light on her husband's coping mechanism that wasn't so different to her own. It was a useful skill in certain situations, but Sansa had learned the hard way it was no way to live and she wouldn't let Tyrion hide away from her.

"Come love; let me help you" she said, offering her hand

She helped Tyrion out of his tunic, handing him the direwolf pin to hold as she eased the sleeve over his sore hand. There wasn't as much blood on him as she'd feared and it seemed to mostly be Gawan's. Sansa put the tunic aside for washing, returning to find Tyrion holding the pin out to her.

"Here you are" he said

Sansa shook her head, gently closing his fingers around the pin "It's for you"

Tyrion's face brightened as he rubbed his thumb over the pin. A servant knocked on the door soon after, delivering a bowl filled with ice, a cloth and bandages.

"Arya said she'll see you in the morning and to ice your hand" said Sansa as she guided Tyrion onto the chaise.

It was too early to get ready for bed and with no point getting dressed properly Tyrion sat in just his shift and breeches. Lyon had curled up in front of the hearth as Sansa tended to her husband. The dried blood easily came off his hand, revealing the split knuckles beneath. His hand was already black and blue when she placed it in the ice.

"You said no more ice baths" he grumbled, wincing at the cold

"Just a little longer, my love" she said

When Sansa had dried his hand and wrapped the bandages around it, she finally sank onto the chaise next to him.

"Thank you" he said, examining the limb

"No problem"

Tyrion offered her a smile "I'd be hopeless without you"

"Good thing you won't be without me then"

"I never intended to punch Gawan" he said, staring at the hearth "or go in the cell…but when he grabbed hold of me…"

Sansa nodded her understanding, her eyes flitting to his breeches "Is everything ok there?"

"Oh, yes" he said, his cheeks reddening "Quite alright"

The Queen wound her arm around her husband, drawing him into her side.

"What you did today was incredibly brave" she said "I know how difficult it must have been - I'm sorry I couldn't think of another way"

"Don't apologise" he said, leaning into her "Your plan was quite brilliant"

"It's over now. Lord Glover and lord Manderly have seen a truth they can't deny"

"At least Gawan's death won't start a war"

Sansa nodded, enjoying the feel of her husband against her. There was nothing more to be done about Gawan until tomorrow and Sansa had no intention of returning to her work today. More than anything she wanted to lift some of the melancholy from around her husband.

She turned to Tyrion, lightening her tone as she ran her fingers over his chest "Time for more important matters; you're banned from work for the rest of the day"

"Oh?"

"Your poor hand needs a break - Queen's orders"

"I suppose"

"As your wife I'll be taking the day off as well"

"Makes sense" he nodded

Sansa leaned in kissing his cheek, as her hand wandered around his shift "What can I do to bring a smile to your face?"

Tyrion looked up at her, the familiar warmth of his green eyes clouded by a vulnerability he usually hid from her "Hold me?"


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

"Surprised Sansa let you out of bed today big brother" said Arya, glancing along at Tyrion.

"Why's that?"

"She seems to think you're some precious thing" said Arya, eyeing his bandaged hand "thought she'd be smothering you with attention since you hurt your hand"

Tyrion snorted "It's only bruised, and your sister gave me plenty of attention last night"

"I don't need to know what goes on between you two"

"Not like _that_, though I do believe she wanted to" said Tyrion, a small smile crossing his face "We sat together for hours - just talking and telling stories. We read for a while too…"

Arya resisted the urge to roll her eyes as Tyrion went on describing the closeness he and Sansa had shared last night. It obviously meant a lot to Tyrion, but to Arya it sounded boring as hell. She could just imagine the two of them sat in front of the hearth, staring into each other's eyes for hours on end.

As much as Arya had wanted to check on Tyrion yesterday she'd suspected it was Sansa he needed and she'd let them be until this morning. Sansa had gone to a meeting with lord Glover and lord Manderly and Arya had dragged Tyrion down to the practice yard. His hand was just as bruised and swollen as she'd predicted, but her sister had heeded her advice and iced it last night - even so it would be a few days until he could use it properly.

"You should still wear your sword" said Arya, setting up the target across the practice yard

Tyrion lifted his bandaged hand "Not much point at the moment"

"It's still attached, and if it was life or death would you hesitate to grab your sword?"

"I have Lyon"

Arya glanced across to the golden wolf; currently lying on his back in the morning sun with his paws in the air.

"Terrifying" said Arya, raising an eyebrow

"You should smell his morning breath"

Arya scrunched her nose "Sansa doesn't mind Lyon sleeping in bed with you?"

"In fairness Lyon gives her little choice in the matter. His visits to the bed are somewhat random – sometimes I just wake up and he's there" said Tyrion "I suspect he does it to annoy Sansa. They never really bonded"

"I do many things just to annoy Sansa" agreed Arya.

It was no mystery to her or Sansa why Lyon would sometimes join Tyrion in bed or seek him out around the castle. The wolf knew when something was bothering his master and Lyon's behaviour had become an indicator for her and Sansa. When Arya went to see them this morning the direwolf had been following Tyrion like a shadow, and it had solidified her plan to spend some time with her brother. Dealing with lord Glover and lord Manderly the last two days had quickly eaten through Arya's patience; unwinding in the practice yard while Sansa dealt with them was the best way to prevent a murder.

Arya set up the last target, stepping back to inspect the post with several straw targets of different sizes attached to it; a smaller one for the head, a larger one for the torso and a couple of narrow ones for legs. She moved back to where Tyrion was waiting. He hadn't worn his sword but he'd brought along the dagger Bronn gave him, which he'd taken to wearing too – much to Arya's approval.

"Aren't you glad for all those left handed knife throwing lessons now?" asked Arya

Tyrion rolled his eyes "I suppose you had a point"

"Sword practice may be taking a break but knife skills aren't" said Arya "Unless you want to practice with your sword in your left hand?"

"No, thank you. Jamie was an excellent swordsman until he had to use his left – Gods only know what I'd be like"

Much to Arya's satisfaction Tyrion's knife throwing had improved rather a lot from when they started. Initially it had been an exercise to build strength in his weaker hand but over the few weeks of practice Tyrion had picked up the basic technique and was fairly accurate, if a little slow.

"You're thinking too much" she said, watching him line up the target

"If I miss, what's the point?"

"If you take too long they'll hit you first"

He let the dagger fly, the blade just clipping the edge of the head target as it soared past.

"Do you think it's a bit big to throw?" he asked

"You can throw any blade, and you're more likely to have that dagger with you than the smaller knives we practice with" said Arya, withdrawing the Valyrian steel dagger Bran had given her and launching it at the target. It spun through the air, landing dead centre of the head target.

"Show off" said Tyrion, moving to collect their weapons

They carried on for several rounds. Arya challenged herself to throw with her eyes closed, while Tyrion had varying levels of success hitting the targets.

"Must have felt good to hit Gawan" she said

"I thought it would, but it didn't really" admitted Tyrion "No matter how hard I hit him he carried on laughing. The stupid grin on his face...I was powerless"

"You weren't powerless, and based on the mess you made of your hand Gawan's face won't be looking so pretty today"

"I don't want to see it" said Tyrion, dropping his gaze to the dagger in his hands "it's stupid, but I don't want to see Gawan again"

"That's not stupid"

No-one was going to blame Tyrion for that. Arya hadn't needed any excuses to hate Gawan Glover, but watching him taunt Tyrion yesterday had been excruciating. When the bastard had grabbed Tyrion it had been difficult to not intervene. Sansa had barely controlled herself either.

"Sansa said it'll be a couple of days before he dies" said Tyrion

"Do you want to be the one who does it?"

Tyrion bit his lip, as if he didn't want to say what he was thinking.

"I should" he said eventually "I'm the lord of Winterfell, I should do it myself"

"Do you want to though?"

"That hardly matters; it's expected of me"

"Tyrion..."

"I don't want to" he said, turning to look at her "it shouldn't bother me, but I never want to see Gawan's face again – even if it is to see him die"

"Then don't" she said simply "I'd rather like to poke some holes in him"

"You and Sansa shouldn't need to cover for my weakness" he said, running a hand through his curly hair "I should be protecting you both"

"Because you're a man?" asked Arya, lifting an eyebrow as she twirled a knife through her fingers

"Well, no..."

"Because it's your sworn duty as lord of Winterfell?"

Arya let the knife fly, followed swiftly by a second and third until three blades quivered in the centre of the head target.

Tyrion gave a half smile at the display of skill "Because you're my family, and I want to protect you and Sansa the way you so readily defend me"

Something warm stirred in Arya's chest at his words "That's the idea of the pack big brother – there are no lone wolves and protecting the pack is a shared responsibility"

"I fear I'm still rather new to the idea"

Arya turned to Tyrion "Forget about Gawan Glover. You won't see him ever again"

"What about Sansa? I don't want to disappoint her"

"Sansa won't mind at all. If anything she'll be glad you told her how you feel"

Tyrion shifted on the spot "Can't you tell her?"

Arya smirked, turning away from Tyrion's pleading face. It was always amusing to see him beg, but this was something she wouldn't do for him. There was no reason for Tyrion to be nervous about telling his wife and that was something he had to learn on his own. Besides, if Arya had to guess she was fairly sure Sansa would smother him in reassurances when they spoke.

"Sorry big brother, but Sansa's your problem. I'll handle Gawan Glover though – don't spare him another thought"

* * *

Satisfaction curled through Sansa as she read through the statement condemning Gawan Glover – her eyes lingering on lord Glover's name and sigil at the bottom. The signatures included Arya, Tyrion, lord Manderly and herself, but it was lord Glover's she'd truly needed. This document meant so many things; justice for Tyrion, some stability in the North and most importantly the end of Gawan.

"Thank you, my lords" said Sansa, passing the documents across to Maester Wolkan "Word of the ruling will be sent to all Northern houses and reinforce the importance of finding Robin Flint and Grey Worm"

"How did Grey Worm escape exactly?" asked lord Manderly

Irritation at Bran's betrayal flickered through her "Unfortunately the details aren't clear, but Winterfell was so busy for King Bran's visit we believe Grey Worm somehow worked his chains free and escaped in the busyness of the event"

"A traitor perhaps?"

"Difficult to say my lord, but I think not. The Winterfell guards have been spread thin with the hunt for Gawan and Robin as well as the royal visit – some houses have helped greatly during this time, but it's not been enough. Somewhere a mistake was made and Grey Worm made his escape"

Lord Manderly flushed at the pointed comment "Certainly understandable, your Grace. When I return to White Harbour I can send some of my men to assist you in any way needed"

"Thank you my lord, but I'd hate to take your men away when you're experiencing shipping problems" said Sansa, smiling sweetly at him "Do you require any assistance with that situation?"

"I-I thank you, but that's hardly necessary. I'm sure it'll be easily resolved when I return..."

Lord Manderly went wittering on about trade and shipping – all to disguise the very obvious truth he'd been the one causing the delay. He was a clever enough man, and usually ran White Harbour well but Sansa trusted him no further than she could throw him and given his immense size that wasn't very far. He'd been fully supportive of the Glovers until the truth was revealed, at which point he'd slithered away from lord Glover as if he had grey scale.

The revelation of Gawan's true nature had shattered the power lord Glover and lord Manderly had been so eager to wield only the day before. While lord Manderly had quickly changed from an obstacle to an ally, lord Glover was empty. The passion with which he'd defended his son had been extinguished, leaving behind a man who looked as though his soul had been sucked from his body. When he arrived at the meeting he'd enquired only about lord Tyrion's whereabouts before adding his signature to the statement without bothering to read it.

"Do you have anything to add lord Glover?" asked Sansa, when lord Manderly finally finished

He jerked at her voice, as if pulled from his thoughts "No, your Grace"

"Very well. The details of Gawan's execution are yet to be decided" she said "the focus will remain on capturing Robin Flint and Grey Worm"

Just because lord Glover and lord Manderly had accepted the truth didn't mean she trusted them. They hadn't answered her calls for aid in the search for Tyrion, or in the hunt for Robin and Gawan. She had no idea whether they'd received letters from Robin Flint suggesting a rebellion or not, but Sansa had no intention of bringing it up to them. Who was to say if there was a rebellion they wouldn't switch sides? She didn't need to involve them. She had houses Cerwyn, Tallhart, Hornwood and Mazin on side. House Dormund was too closely linked to house Glover to trust and she didn't know house Locke or house Dustin well enough to decide either way. Tyrion had made subtle enquiries to both houses and lady Dustin claimed to have received a letter about a rebellion and discarded it while house Locke was somewhat unknown.

Sansa's stomach twisted uncomfortably. Bronn had told her men were going North, presumably to join Robin. If it came to a fight she needed more houses on side, but she couldn't bring herself to trust these lords. Sansa had been betrayed since the day she left Winterfell. It had taught her how to play the game; it had made her cautious of whom she trusted.

She glanced between lord Glover's distant face and lord Manderly's false smile before she spoke "I believe we should move onto other matters. Maester Wolkan, could you show the details of the trade agreement made with the six Kingdoms to lord Manderly please? Much was discussed during the royal visit and it will take a while to go through it all"

* * *

"Please m'lord my family are starving" said the young man "I don't know what else to do"

Tyrion shifted uncomfortably in his chair, appraising the man before him. The story was all too common and likely repeated across the North. The long night had destroyed farms and livelihoods indiscriminately, plunging most of the small folk into an even deeper poverty than they were used to. To make matters worse years of war had killed many of the working men in the villages, leaving behind children and wives with limited options for survival.

"Do you have a trade?" asked Tyrion. The man looked no more than twenty and two, but had a young wife and two children depending on him.

Shame crept through the man's dark eyes "No, m'lord. Me father went south when I was a lad and didn't come back. He worked for a stone mason, but he's dead too"

This was a recurring theme of Tyrion's court sessions and he knew from the letters he exchanged with Cley Cerwyn it wasn't limited to Winterfell. Most trades were either taught from father to son or learned through working as an apprentice in late childhood. Tyrion had already persuaded many merchants in the village to take on more apprentices and promised them support from the crown in exchange, but it simply wasn't a long term solution.

"I fear there is little I can do to aid you" said Tyrion, watching the man's face fall "the issues you've described are replicated across the North and I will continue to search for a long term solution, but for now the best I can offer is food for your family"

"Thank you m'lord" he said, bowing his head

Tyrion didn't like not being able to do more, but work was scarce across the North. Already he'd persuaded Sansa to train some village men as Winterfell guards but even there they were at the limit of how many guards they could take. In his youth Tyrion had witnessed his father take strong young men and train them as guards regardless of birth, but the solution wasn't as simple in the North. The Lannisters had been the wealthiest family in Westeros – the cost of equipment, training and wages were hardly a concern. While Winterfell was the most powerful of the Northern houses, its wealth was a pittance compared to other houses in Westeros – there wasn't endless money to pay guards or to give in aid.

Nessa directed the man to one side of the hall with the others who would be given food and spare blankets in aid, while Tyrion turned the problem over in his mind. There was one idea he'd played with for a while now but would the Northerners accept it, or would it just be further evidence he wasn't one of them? The North was proud of its tradition – was it too proud to change? It was tempting to discuss it with Sansa but the Queen had more than enough to deal with at the moment. Perhaps it was best to do the necessary research alone and discuss it with Sansa when he had a more thoroughly thought out proposal.

"Is that everyone Nessa?" he asked, glancing at his squire

The girl nodded, turning to the packed hall "If anyone else wants to bring their petition before the lord of Winterfell speak now or hold your peace!"

Tyrion smiled as her childish voice echoed around the room. He'd just begun to move from the chair he'd spent hours in when Lyon's growl stopped him short. The crowd parted to reveal Lord Glover striding forwards from the back of the hall.

"I have something to say" he declared, instantly catching the attention of the small folk who were readying to leave the hall

Tyrion forced his voice to be steady "My lord, I am happy to speak with you. Shall we retire somewhere more private?"

The old lord's face was grim as he stood before the platform where Tyrion's seat was situated "No, what I have to say should be heard by all"

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Tyrion's face. He could feel the eyes of the petitioners flicking between him and lord Glover and he was well aware Nessa and the guards were awaiting his decision, but Tyrion hadn't been prepared for this. Why was lord Glover here?

_'He's here to tear you down'_ whispered his mind _'he's going to tell them all you're a liar and a traitor'_

A deep pit of fear stirred to life in Tyrion at lord Glover's arrival; giving strength to the doubts that fought to control him.

"Of course" said Tyrion, curling his hands around the arms of his chair. Lyon had stopped growling but sat attentively at his side as the rest of the room fell silent.

Lord Glover's eyes were full of grief as he stared at Tyrion, before dropping to one knee "Lord Tyrion, I come to beg your forgiveness. I accused you of lying and I questioned your honour when it was my own son who was at fault"

Tyrion opened his mouth, but words refused to come as the old man continued – his voice drifting to every corner of the room.

"I denied all of the charges levelled at Gawan, up until I could deny them no more. He is guilty of treason, torture, kidnapping and slavery; that is beyond doubt now. He's dishonoured himself and in doing so dishonoured my house. There is nothing I can say to erase the heinous crimes committed against you, but that creature will die. As his father I must take my share of the blame. I took no part in his crimes, but he is-was my son"

The silence was deafening as the weight of lord Glover's words sank in. Surely there was no other part of Westeros where a prominent lord would so publicly acknowledge the sins of his house? This wasn't Kings Landing though, or Casterly Rock. Lord Glover would have fought to his last for Gawan, because he believed whole-heartedly his son was innocent. Now his belief had been proven wrong he wouldn't shy away from admitting his mistakes – or offering Tyrion justice. That was ultimately what lord Glover was offering. He'd publically acknowledged Gawan's guilt and condemned him, but the Northern sense of honour was compelling lord Glover to offer Tyrion justice for doubting him.

"My lord, there is nothing to forgive. You defended your son as most fathers would. I've always believed the child is not responsible for its parent's crimes, and the same is true in reverse. Gawan is a man grown, and was careful to hide his true nature – I hold no grudge against you for Gawan's crimes"

Lord Glover lifted his head "I questioned your honour"

"Only because you believed in your son's. The Queen will sentence Gawan, and I bear you no ill-will"

The old lord held Tyrion's gaze for a moment before nodding, moving stiffly to his feet "Thank you my lord"

Tyrion scrambled from his chair as lord Glover held out his hand. The eyes of the room followed them as Tyrion clasped his hand to shake. Somehow the tension that had entered the room broke as they pulled away. The guards began directing the small folk out of the hall as a light chatter filled the air. Tyrion didn't need to wonder what they were talking about. Word of what had happened here today would spread like wildfire, and it would add significant weight to the charges levelled at Robin Flint too.

"If you'll excuse me lord Tyrion" said lord Glover, turning towards the side door "I should send a raven to my family"

Nessa hurried to his side as he watched lord Glover leave, her hand tugging at his arm "You ok Tyrion?"

"Lord Glover apologised" he said, staring at the man's retreating form "I can't quite believe it"

"Is Gawan the one that hurt you?"

"One of them"

Nessa knew the basics of what was going on, but few of the details. With her working in Winterfell it was impossible for her not to know.

"That's why he apologised" she told him "Father used to say if me and Ethan did bad things he was guilty cause he didn't teach us better"

Tyrion nodded, struggling to process what had just happened. After so many months in the North Tyrion had thought he understood the people and the way they worked – yet somehow they never ceased to surprise him.

* * *

"Did you put him up to it?" asked Tyrion

"No, of course not" said Sansa, shaking her head "tell me again what happened"

Sansa listened intently as Tyrion went through what had happened with lord Glover once more. The Queen had been going through some correspondence when Tyrion returned with his tale, and it was one Sansa could hardly believe.

"He said all that publicly?" she asked

Tyrion nodded "The petitioners hadn't left the hall yet – Nessa and the guards heard everything too"

"Lord Glover asked where you were at the start of the meeting; I told him you were holding court but I never imagined he'd do that"

"Neither did I" said Tyrion "I thought he'd come to start an argument, but it appears I misjudged him"

"Gawan's actions have shamed him. The Glovers are an old Northern house – to question another man's honour so publicly and then be proved wrong is another stain of dishonour on his house"

"I doubt there are many who would seek to make amends as he did"

"Not anymore. It's another part of Northern tradition that's fading away"

Sansa leaned back in her chair, going over what Tyrion had told her. Lord Glover had made things much easier for them going forwards. His public acknowledgment of Gawan's guilt would add a lot of weight to the charges against Robin too; hopefully enough to discourage people from joining Robin's rebellion attempt.

She glanced across at Tyrion, sat at the desk beside her. He'd been rather subdued last night, despite their victory over Gawan. She'd done her best to lighten his mood, but Tyrion had remained quite closed off and had gently turned down her offer of a thorough inspection of his private area. That was perfectly fine with Sansa – she was just happy Tyrion had let her comfort him at all. Facing Gawan had dredged up a lot of unresolved feelings for him and she'd been perfectly content to hold him while he worked through it all.

Fortunately he'd been more like himself this morning, if a little distant.

"Lord Glover and lord Manderly both signed the statement this morning" she said, drawing his attention "Maester Wolkan is going to send word of the judgement across the North and given lord Glover has accepted the situation, I see no reason to delay Gawan's death much longer. It can be as soon as tomorrow if you like"

Tyrion dropped his gaze to the table, fiddling with the bandages around his hand "Oh – that's good"

"Is everything alright?"

Sansa sat patiently, giving Tyrion whatever time he needed to get his thoughts in order. Nervousness shone from his green eyes when he finally looked at her.

"Sansa, would it be possible for me not to be there when Gawan dies?"

"You don't want to watch?" she asked "No-one expects you to swing the sword if that's what's bothering you – Arya will be more than happy to do it"

"It's not that" he said "I know how hard you've worked to get justice for me. I just..."

He trailed off, turning his head away from her. Sansa had thought Tyrion would be excited to see Gawan die and wondered if he wanted to do it himself or not. That apparently wasn't the case. The Queen closed her hand around his, gently tugging it away from the bandages and rubbing her thumb in circles across the back of it.

"I don't want to see Gawan again" he admitted

"Then you won't see him again"

"It shouldn't bother me"

"But it does" she said, squeezing his hand "Sweetheart, is that what's been bothering you?"

"What do you mean?" he asked

"Having Gawan in Winterfell is bothering you, isn't it? You've seemed on edge since Bronn brought him here, and I know you're not sleeping well"

Tyrion's eyes were full of guilt as he looked at her "I'm sorry. I never meant to disturb your sleep-"

"You haven't. I'd hold you all night if you'd let me and consider myself the luckiest woman alive" she said "You don't ever need to apologise for wanting my comfort; it's yours Tyrion - always"

Sansa felt his fingers tighten around her own as his gaze turned downwards "I've been having nightmares"

"About the Wolfswood?"

He shook his head "No, I keep seeing Gawan in Winterfell; in our chambers. The dreams change sometimes, but some things don't. You die, and I can't wake you up...and I'm alone...sometimes Arya's dead too...but he's always there...grinning at me"

Sansa's heart ached as Tyrion described the horrible images that haunted his sleep. Sansa was no stranger to nightmares – how many nights had she woken up believing Ramsay Bolton was in the room? Even a couple of years on from his death his ghost lingered on the edge of her consciousness. Tyrion had done so well recovering from the Wolfswood it was easy to forget it had only been a couple of months ago he'd laid broken and battered on the table in Maester Wolkan's room. Guilt gnawed at Sansa as she looked at her husband's worried face. He hadn't shied away from facing lord Glover and confronting Gawan – he took everything in his stride without a word of complaint, despite how difficult it was for him.

"My love, is that why I keep finding you on top of me in the mornings?" she asked gently

Redness crept into Tyrion's face "The dreams seemed so real...I wanted to protect you"

The words caught in Sansa's throat at the sincerity in Tyrion's voice "I'm well protected then"

"I'm sorry Sansa – I shouldn't be bothering you with this, or clinging to you in bed like a child" he said, straightening in his seat "Gawan will die, that's the important thing"

Tyrion was putting his lordly mask on, hiding away whatever anxiety he had about having Gawan in Winterfell. It wouldn't work. Sansa had suspected Tyrion was struggling since Gawan arrived, but he hid it well enough that it was easy to overlook. There was nothing Sansa wanted to do more than pull him into her arms and soothe the vulnerability bubbling below the surface, but there was still one issue to resolve.

"Tyrion, please be honest with me; do you want to be the one to kill Gawan?" she asked "You're the one he hurt, you're welcome to take your justice"

He hesitated for a moment, his neutral mask wavering "I don't. I never want to see him again"

"To be clear, you don't want to watch him die?"

"No"

"Is there a particular way you want him to die?"

Tyrion shook his head, muttering softly "As long as he's dead"

Sansa pulled his hand towards her, pressing her lips to the back of it "That's decided then – you'll never see Gawan again"

"Won't it look odd that I'm not at the execution? I don't want to embarrass you Sansa"

"You could never embarrass me, and if you're ok with it I was thinking a public execution might not be the best idea"

At that Tyrion lifted his eyes to hers "What do you mean?"

"Gawan is the only one who might have information on Robin. I was thinking Arya could extract some answers and Gawan would die in the dungeons. Seeing as lord Glover's publicly apologised to you it might be better to do it privately, and allow him to save some face"

"A clever plan" he nodded "A show of mercy to house Glover from the Queen in the North"

"What do you think?" she asked "If you'd rather it be public I'd more than understand"

"No, I think you're right. Lord Glover has owned up to his mistakes and publicly disowned Gawan – there's no need to add to his pain" he said "Arya would get answers from Gawan?"

"I'd be with her"

"Sansa..."

"We won't be in danger" she promised "There will be guards with us and Gawan will be restrained. Do you really think he could beat Arya?"

Tyrion bit his lip "I don't want either of you to get hurt, least of all on my behalf. I should be strong enough to do it myself – but I'm not"

Sansa couldn't hold out any longer. She slipped from her chair, to crouch next to Tyrion's – drawing him into her embrace.

"You're the strongest man I know" she told him "but you're not in this alone. Robin and Gawan threaten the whole North and as Queen it's my duty to be there when the sword is swung. You've done more than enough my love, let me handle this"

"You're sure?" he breathed, leaning his head against her shoulder

"I am" she said "When midnight falls tomorrow he'll be gone, I promise"

* * *

Bran gazed out the window of his chambers, seeing the swamps of the neck spreading out from the castle. They were still in the North, but already Bran could feel his connection to the old Gods slipping. It had been stronger at Winterfell; and stronger still beyond the wall.

"Is it true?" asked Meera "Did you take control of a guard like you used to with Hodor?"

"Where did you hear that?"

"Ser Bronn talks too much" she said "he asked me to tell him about all the weird stuff you must have done beyond the wall"

"It seems a lifetime ago when we went beyond the wall"

"You're avoiding the question"

Bran pulled his gaze from the window to his new sworn shield. Meera stood by the door, her spear in hand.

"It's true" he said "Grey Worm could not remain in Winterfell"

She grimaced "I never liked your power. Warging into animals is one thing, but humans? It's a violation"

"It is" he agreed "when it first happened with Hodor I didn't really know what I was doing, but I could feel him struggling. I had to warg into the guard – it was the only solution, and the old Gods knew it"

Meera nodded, saying nothing more on the matter. Bran hadn't liked what he'd had to do, but it needed to be done. Sansa's goodbye to him had been as cold as ice, while Arya hadn't spoken to him since the incident with Darron. She might not have spoken to him but she had been there. It was as his party left Winterfell that Bran had taken a final look at his childhood home and saw his sister hidden away at the top of the battlements. Arya had looked as if she was carved from stone as she stood in place.

Bran had known freeing Grey Worm would hurt his family – especially Arya. He'd tried to distance himself from her; hoping when the betrayal came she would be better prepared for it, but ultimately he'd made things worse. Sansa and Arya were furious and he didn't need to be the three-eyed raven to know they wouldn't trust him again.

"You don't like or trust the powers of the three-eyed raven" said Bran, folding his hands in his lap "Why did you agree to be my sworn shield?"

"I wouldn't have if I thought that was all you were"

"I am the three-eyed raven" he warned "and that is something that can't be changed"

"You're Bran Stark too" she said "he's the one who asked me to join him"

* * *

Tyrion watched Darron turn the sword in his hand; a smile lighting up the boy's face.

"What do you think?" asked Tyrion

"It's beautiful" said Darron

"Good. The Queen hopes this will in some way repay you for the false accusations you endured"

Darron's mouth turned downwards "I did it though. I freed the prisoner"

Tyrion bit back a sigh as Brice and Cayn smirked at him – despite several attempts to explain how Bran had used Darron and that he was blameless of any crime, the boy still didn't understand. Tyrion had found it was easier to move on, rather than force the issue.

It had taken a few days of thought but Sansa had finally settled on suitable compensation for Darron. Much like lord Glover had questioned Tyrion's honour, Darron's honour had been called into question when he was found guilty of Bran's crime and Sansa was determined to make amends. From what Sansa had told him, Darron's only request when asked what he wanted was to resume his position as a guard of Winterfell. To that end Tyrion had suggested a better quality sword may be a suitable gift. The new blade in Darron's hands was castle forged steel, with the Direwolf symbol engraved at the base of the blade. Most of the weapons used by the guards had changed hands many times and seen many battles – being gifted a new sword by the Queen was considered an honour.

"Sansa was very impressed with how you handled yourself, and your loyalty to her" said Tyrion "She hopes you'll use this sword well"

"I will m'lord" said Darron, hastily bowing his head "Thank you!"

The young man fumbled in his haste to attach the sword to his belt, before bowing his head to Tyrion once more. As Darron hurried off to show another couple of guards his new weapon, Tyrion clambered onto the crate where Brice and Cayn were sat at the edge of the practice yard.

"Where are our swords Lannister?" asked Brice, nudging his shoulder "Aint we loyal to the Queen?"

"If Sansa rewarded you two with anything it would be a bath"

Brice barked out a laugh "Aye, reckon it's been enough weeks"

"Weeks?"

"We aint fancy like you Tyrion" said Cayn "Once a month if we're lucky"

"Even then it's a cold one" said Brice "cold enough to turn ya balls blue"

Cayn nodded "Better you've not had to do it Tyrion - you're not as used to the cold as us"

"Lad's right Lannister; your balls would turn to ice"

Tyrion's mouth fell open at the poor conditions they were describing "Do all Northerners live like that?"

It was Cayn's snort of disbelief that gave the game away, followed quickly by Brice's booming laugh.

"Bloody hell" laughed Brice, clasping Tyrion's shoulder "you wouldn't want to sit next to me if I hadn't had a bath in a month"

A grin spread over Cayn's face "Can't believe you fell for that"

Redness crept up Tyrion's neck "Your odour made a rather compelling case. I take it you do have hot water then?"

"Not as much as the castle I expect, but we don't get home after a hard day's work and sit in a tub of ice either" said Brice, wiping at his face "You believed all of that, didn't you?"

"I know Northerners are a rather hardy bunch; unconcerned by personal grooming" said Tyrion

"That's right Lannister. It's a Northern rite of passage – you aint a man of the North till you've froze your balls off in a cold bath" declared Brice

Cayn was still laughing "Do you want us to arrange one for you?"

"That's an idea" agreed Brice "You're already one of us, but this'll seal the deal"

Tyrion found himself grinning along with them. It didn't bother him at all that Brice and Cayn were mocking him – they were his friends, and he knew it was harmless banter. Their playful teasing couldn't be more different to the cutting remarks he received from the lords of Sansa's court who liked to remind him he wasn't born a Northerner.

"I'll have you know I've already bathed in the coldest water there is" said Tyrion

"That stream me and Lyle cleaned you up in on the way North doesn't count" said Cayn

"I don't mean that" said Tyrion "I've had an ice bath!"

Brice snorted "Did the servants let their lord's bath get a little cold for him?"

Tyrion pouted in mock outrage "I did have a bath in ice; Sansa said she was covering me in snow-"

He clamped his mouth shut, just as Brice and Cayn's eyes lit up in delight. Tyrion groaned as they loomed over him.

"What was that Tyrion?" asked Cayn

"Out with it" said Brice "tell us all about how the Queen gave you a bath"

"Spare no details" added Cayn

"You're both perverts" said Tyrion

"Not at all" grinned Brice "We just need to establish if this ice bath of yours qualifies you as a Northerner"

"Details are important" agreed Cayn

"Sorry to disappoint you but there are no details" said Tyrion "I wasn't awake for the experience"

It took a moment for Tyrion to realise he'd just made things infinitely worse for himself.

"Gods be good, what the hell do you and the Queen do up there?" asked Brice

As amusing as Brice was finding it, Cayn was just as curious "What happened? Did you just go to bed and she put you in the ice bath? Were you wearing clothes?"

Tyrion held his head with as much dignity as he could "I'll have you know Sansa did it while I was unwell, and I don't recall any of it – but I do believe I was undressed for the occasion"

Brice's face was red from laughing "Aye, alright. Reckon that qualifies you as a Northerner"

"He doesn't remember it though" added Cayn "I still think he should do it again, just so we can all see"

"Never realised you wanted to see me naked Cayn" said Tyrion, turning the tables on the young man

Instantly Cayn's face flushed red, as Brice erupted into laughter "You walked into that one lad"

Before Tyrion could further his revenge on Cayn, another guard came running across into the practice yard.

"Lord Tyrion, they're back!" he called, drawing in ragged breaths "They're in the courtyard"

It took several seconds for the details to click into place, but when they did Tyrion pushed off the crate and to his feet – Cayn and Brice joining him. They hurried across the practice yard, following the other guard into the courtyard where a crowd was quickly forming around the entrance.

"Clear a path" ordered Brice

The crowd glanced around, immediately moving to the side when they spotted the lord of Winterfell. Tyrion's heart stopped when he made it to the front of the crowd. Alec stood at the front of the men; his face a mess of cuts and dirt. Torn up strips of cloak were wound around his shoulder, but blood had soaked through to the front. The Winterfell guards behind him looked just as worse for wear, and to Tyrion's increasing horror there was nowhere near as many of them as had left.

"Where's Lyle?" asked Cayn, his voice wavering as he searched the men for his brother

"I'm here" came the weak reply

Relief flooded Tyrion as he finally caught sight of Lyle. He was towards the back of men; leaning heavily on one of the others. Tyrion couldn't quite see past the rest of the guards, but he just caught sight of Lyle's face and that was enough to reassure him his friend was alive.

"What happened?" asked Tyrion, stepping forward to greet Alec

The captain of the guard shook his head "Not here. The Queen needs to know first"

Tyrion nodded, taking in the state of the men behind Alec. He turned to the gathered crowd "What are you all waiting for? These men are injured – send for the Maester. Find food, clean water and blankets"

The crowd lurched to life at Tyrion's order, scrambling around the courtyard. Tyrion caught the eye of a young woman from the kitchens, beckoning her over.

"Will you run a message for me?" he asked "There isn't time to summon my squire"

"Certainly m'lord" she said, nervously bobbing her head

"Find the Queen and tell her Alec and the guards have returned. Tell her it's urgent" he said

"Aye, m'lord"

The servant made a clumsy attempt at a curtsy before hurrying off. The courtyard was alive with activity as the Winterfell household moved to aid the wounded guards. Cayn had darted quickly off to his brother, while Brice had paused to see Alec before following Cayn.

Tyrion stepped closer to his friend "Are you alright?"

"I'll live, which is more than I can say for some of our men" he said grimly "This is a bad business Tyrion – the Queen won't be at all happy"

* * *

Sansa hurried through the halls of Winterfell with Arya at her side. They'd been sat in her chambers since lunch, planning the execution of Gawan Glover that would take place tomorrow – or they were until a servant knocked on the door, delivering a message from Tyrion that Alec and the guards had returned.

Immediately they'd set off for the courtyard, with Sansa going through every possible situation. Alec and the guards had been due back days ago and there had been no communication from them since they'd been gone. Something hadn't gone to plan – if it had Alec would have come straight to her and Tyrion wouldn't have sent the message he had.

"Lord Glover and lord Manderly will wonder what's going on" said Sansa, worry curling through her "I haven't told them about Robin's attempt to start a rebellion"

Arya shot her a look "Who cares what they know or don't"

"I don't trust them" she hissed "the last thing I want is them asking questions"

"I thought your priority would be the Winterfell guards" said Arya, narrowing her eyes "You know, the men who followed their Queen's orders and clearly ran into some trouble?"

The sharp remark stopped Sansa short "You're right...I just..."

They slowed down as the main doors to Winterfell came into view.

"You think too much" said Arya, striding towards the doors "Tell the lords where to go if you don't want to give them answers"

Sansa watched her sister push through the doors and disappear into the courtyard – already the sounds of commotion were drifting into her. Arya made it sound so simple; it was the same kind of thinking that had caused Jon and their father such problems.

_'When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die'_ whispered Cersei

The Queen drew in a breath, steadying her nerves. There was no point speculating on what had happened when the answers would be in the courtyard. The cold Northern air sliced into her skin as she stepped from the warmth of the castle and into the chaos of the courtyard. At first glance it was hard to see what was going on because of the commotion. Servants and guards hurried around the area as Sansa's eyes fell on the group of men stood just inside the entrance. They were covered in dirt and blood, with several leaning on another for support.

Sansa's heart sped up, watching the scene unfold as if through another's eyes. This was her fault. The men were clearly injured and Sansa knew without counting there wasn't as many as had gone out. She was the Queen; this mess was her responsibility – she needed to take charge. Sansa took a few steps forward when her eyes fell on lord Glover and lord Manderly watching the commotion from the ramparts. A couple of their own guards stood beside them, more than likely relaying what they'd seen.

Rather than move further out, Sansa froze in the shadows of the castle. What was she supposed to do? This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. It was then Sansa realised someone had already taken charge of the situation. Tyrion stood in the midst of the chaos, directing the servants and guards to help the injured and get things moving.

"Take the men into the barracks and find clean blankets for them" Tyrion said to one of the servants, before turning to another "Where's Maester Wolkan?"

"On his way m'lord" said the older woman "He's gathering supplies"

Tyrion nodded, turning to a couple of lord Glover's men who stood watching "You two – go to the Maester's room and help him carry whatever he needs. Some of these men need urgent care"

The two men glanced at each other, but didn't move from their position. Tyrion's face twisted into a glare "Are you hard of hearing?"

"We don't take orders from you" said one of them

Nobody had noticed Sansa hovering in the shadows of the doors, nor the two old lords on the ramparts. The Winterfell household followed Tyrion's orders without question. As lord of Winterfell, lord Glover's guards should have followed his orders just as quickly – particularly given the situation. It wasn't as if Tyrion was asking them to commit treason against their own lord.

"You take your orders from lord Glover" said Tyrion, glaring at the men "I've never been to Deepwood Motte but I doubt it resembles Winterfell, of which I am the lord. I am your liege lord whether you like it or not, and I've asked you to assist with the injured – hardly unreasonable"

The activity in the courtyard stilled to watch the unfolding scene. The younger of the two men shifted uncomfortably, but the elder crossed his arms.

"I don't serve Lannisters, even if they're pretending to be a Stark"

Tyrion's lip curled in distaste "I can take your insults, but your disobedience is wasting time better spent getting my men seen by the Maester. Either do as I've asked with all the speed the old Gods will grant you, or you can go to the dungeon and when my men have been seen to I'll bring you before your lord and remove your head from your body"

Anger flashed across the older guards face. As he opened his mouth to respond, lord Glover's voice cut across the courtyard.

"Enough!" he bellowed, slamming his hand against the railing and dislodging some snow "You men would dare bring more shame to my house? Do as lord Tyrion has asked and pray to all the Gods I don't hang you both when you return"

Both of the guard's heads jerked towards the ramparts, paling instantly at the sight of lord Glover's thunderous expression. Without a word more of protest the men scurried off. Tyrion glanced at the ramparts, nodding his head to lord Glover before returning his attention to the injured guards. Alec was stood beside Tyrion, directing the focus to the men who were the worst off. Arya was among them too, but her focus was on Sansa. Grey eyes burned into hers from across the courtyard, conveying a silent challenge.

_'Why aren't you out here?'_ they seemed to say

Shame bubbled through Sansa, and she took several quick steps forwards. A few of the servants noticed her first, bowing their heads as they hurried about their duties. The Queen glanced up to the ramparts again where lord Manderly was whispering away in lord Glover's ear. The sight caused her stomach to lurch, even as Alec's voice drifted to her.

"Your Grace" he said, drawing her attention. His face was a mess of cuts and dried blood, and his clothes were torn to shreds. Blood had seeped through the makeshift bandages on his shoulder and the man's face was heavy with tiredness.

Alec's greeting had caught Tyrion's attention, pulling him from his hurried conversation with Brice to her side. The lord of Winterfell offered her a tight smile as he joined them.

"What happened?" asked Sansa, studying Alec "You need to see the Maester"

"There are others worse off your Grace" said Alec, swallowing thickly "Apologies for the late return. I tried to send word, but the situation...was difficult to say the least. I didn't realise house Glover and house Manderly were here either – I know you didn't inform them of the plan to take Widows Watch"

"It was impossible to avoid them knowing" said Tyrion "Some of their men were in the courtyard when the gates opened, and word would get around the castle sooner or later"

Sansa's chest tightened, as if anticipating the bad news that was about to come. Alec and the guards looked as though they'd come from battle, when there should have been no need for one. Widows Watch had been empty when they'd sent men there before.

"You ran into trouble?" she asked, dreading the answer

"We were ambushed your Grace" said Alec "but we did complete the task – the wolf and the lion now fly over Widows Watch"

"The lion?" asked Tyrion, scrunching his nose

Sansa ignored Tyrion's questioning look for the moment, focusing instead on Alec "Who ambushed you?"

"Your Grace, it might be best to do this privately..."

"I need to know" she said "we can go over the details when you're rested"

Alec sighed, dropping his head "House Locke of Oldcastle. It appears they've joined Robin Flint's rebellion"

* * *

Arya tapped her fingers against the table in the great hall, trying hard to ignore the knife that seemed to call to her. If lord Manderly didn't shut his mouth soon she might be forced to close it for him. Just this afternoon Sansa had been making plans for the execution of Gawan Glover. For once her sister had allowed herself to be satisfied – they could finally give Tyrion some justice and they would have one less enemy. Whatever satisfaction Sansa had allowed herself had quickly been stolen from her however. Alec's return and the grim news he brought seemed to have blindsided the Queen.

Glancing along at her sister, sympathy curled through Arya. They'd met with Alec after Wolkan had seen to him and he'd told them the blunt truth of what happened. As planned, Alec had led a combined force of Winterfell, Cerwyn and Tallhart men to retake Widows Watch in the Queen's name. Lord Hornwood and Lord Mazin had sent men to join up with them on route. The young lord Mazin hadn't been able to join them as he was still a day's ride away with the free folk, but that was hardly a disaster. Sansa's plan had been simple – a show of power that would reinforce the message traitors to the crown would not go unpunished. Widows Watch had been empty since the Wolfswood; there shouldn't have been a battle at all. It was as Alec and the men were returning from Widows Watch that house Locke struck.

There was no way of knowing how house Locke knew of the force targeting Widows Watch, but if Arya had to guess she would say there had been scouts watching for any movement with orders to report to their nearest ally; lord Locke. Bronn had told Sansa men were quietly being recruited from the villages to join Robin Flint – who's to say they weren't being used as eyes and ears?

From what Alec had told them it was by the Broken Branch river that house Locke struck. There had been two hundred Locke men lying in wait, compared to only ninety of the combined force – it had been a bloodbath by all accounts.

"I don't understand how lord Locke managed to move his forces to the Broken Branch without being noticed" commented lord Manderly, in-between mouthfuls of food

"A ship" said Tyrion, toying with the fork in his hand "Moving by land would have been too slow and easily noticed. Lord Mazin's men sighted an unknown ship sailing from the direction of Oldcastle. It was sheer good fortune the old lord was suspicious and sent his son to investigate. The young lord Mazin and his men arrived just before the battle was lost from what Alec reported"

"House Locke has no naval strength" said lord Manderly "White Harbour is the only port in the North"

"True, but both Widows Watch and Oldcastle are on the coast" explained Tyrion, as if explaining something very obvious "they'd hardly need a trading galley to transport men around the coast of the North"

Sansa sank further into her chair, staring emptily at her plate. While Arya was sympathetic to the fact this latest development was the last thing Sansa wanted to hear, the Queen hadn't taken charge of the situation either. Even in the courtyard Sansa had hung back while Tyrion organised treatment for the men. To Arya, it appeared as if Sansa had tried to retreat behind her Queenly mask – only to find it no longer worked.

"Where would house Locke have gotten a ship?" mused lord Manderly

While both Sansa and lord Glover were lost in their own misery, lord Manderly was quite keen to discuss this latest development as if it was interesting gossip. Sansa hadn't wanted either of these lords to know about Robin's rebellion attempt, but it was impossible to stop the whispers around the castle. Lord Manderly came across as genial enough but Arya could see straight through him – he wanted to know everything, but didn't want to be blunt about it. If lord Glover wasn't drowning in shame he'd have likely been upfront in demanding answers. Sansa had been the one answering lord Manderly initially but unusually for Sansa she'd seemed unsure of what to say and ended up babbling. After the first few questions Tyrion had taken over, displaying far more patience than Arya possessed. Even so, the lord of Winterfell was quickly growing bored of lord Manderly's game.

"I suspect it was Robin's ship" said Tyrion

"Where would house Flint have gotten the necessary gold?" said lord Manderly "White Harbour is full of ships, and even a small one as you're suggesting wouldn't come cheaply"

"Again, I fear I wasn't invited to Robin and Gawan's planning sessions" said Tyrion, as lord Glover flinched "but from what we do know, they made a large sum of gold by selling me to Grey Worm and clearly have a contact across the narrow sea where they intended to sell the women. It seems likely this contact sold them at least one ship"

"Perhaps" agreed lord Manderly, rubbing his chin "I don't understand why lord Locke would support Robin Flint though? Such an act is treasonous"

"Robin Flint fancies himself as King and he's somehow convinced lord Locke it's a good idea. It's a fool's quest – no better than Balon Greyjoy's rebellion years ago. He's a green boy playing at being King"

Tyrion passed it off like a minor annoyance, rather than a major concern. They'd been forced to acknowledge what Robin was doing to the two old lords, but there was no need to go into detail. Sansa didn't trust either house, but they couldn't lie to their faces either. Both Arya and Tyrion had suggested telling the lords everything – their support for Sansa could end the rebellion quickly. Yet the Queen refused to involve them, forcing them into the awkward situation of giving the lords enough information to satisfy without provoking involvement.

Arya moved her gaze to lord Manderly across the table. He was smiling cheerfully, but there was an edge in his eyes that told Arya he didn't quite believe Tyrion.

"It's rather strange, wouldn't you say? Why would house Locke commit treason by attacking your men, for the fantasy of a boy who thinks himself King?"

Tyrion dropped his fork to the table, straightening in his chair "I'm glad you brought this up my lord, I was hoping you would have the answer"

"Why would I have the answer?"

"Well, both house Flint and house Locke take their lead from house Manderly do they not?" asked Tyrion innocently

"Are you suggesting I'm involved in this?"

"Certainly not my lord, I'm merely suggesting there is an issue with your banner men. Perhaps it's linked to the issues you've been experiencing with shipments at White Harbour?"

Arya stifled a laugh as lord Manderly floundered under Tyrion's questioning. She glanced to her right, wondering what her sister thought of the proceedings but the Queen was staring vacantly at the table in front of her.

"The shipping issues will be resolved upon my return to White Harbour" said lord Manderly "and I can assure you I do not tolerate dissent among my banner men"

"That is reassuring to hear" said Tyrion, nodding approvingly "I believe lord Mazin is organising a force to search Oldcastle. From the report Alec gave, it's unlikely there's anyone there but it's better to be cautious"

The old lord lifted his chin "As you pointed out house Locke was sworn to house Manderly – my men will join the search too"

"Excellent" said Tyrion "I shall write to lord Mazin and inform him. After what happened to our own men it's better to send a large force"

"I don't understand why you didn't ask for my help taking Widows Watch" he said

'Because you're a snake' thought Arya 'because you slithered off to Deepwood Motte rather than help us'

Lord Glover wearily lifted his head "Because of Gawan. Neither of our houses aided the search for lord Tyrion nor the hunt for his attackers. That's why the Queen didn't seek our help – it's damned obvious"

Sansa's blue eyes were dull as she looked between the lords "You're quite right"

"Your Grace, do you need the aid of our houses in dealing with this?" asked lord Glover, clearly as fed up of the games as Arya was

Sansa's face was nothing but a regal mask, unless you knew her as Arya did – then you could see the cracks in the facade.

"I need any word of Robin Flint, Grey Worm and now lord Locke reporting to me. I suspect they're hiding further North but searching it without a lead is a waste of time and resources. Sooner or later they'll emerge like Gawan and we'll capture them" said Sansa "There is no need for further involvement of your houses"

Lord Manderly opened his mouth as if to protest, but lord Glover cut him off "As you wish your Grace"

Sansa nodded "Gawan Glover will die tomorrow"

"Aye, your Grace" said the old lord, his face hardening "I'll be there"

"No, you won't" said Sansa "Gawan shamed your house, but you humbled yourself before my husband. As a sign of good faith between our houses Gawan's execution will not be done publicly, though notice of his death will be spread across the North"

Lord Glover sagged in his chair, a hint of relief in his eyes. He might have accepted his son was a monster, but Arya doubted he truly wanted to watch him die.

"I'd implore you both to return to your own keeps as soon as possible" said Sansa, pushing back from the table with Tyrion rising next to her.

"Your Grace, I am happy to stay and help you navigate this challenging time" said lord Manderly

"It's quite alright my lord – I know you have your own duties to attend to" said Sansa.

Lord Glover looked thoroughly resigned, but lord Manderly didn't seem to understand his own dismissal. As Arya stood from her seat, she turned a wicked grin on him "If you need any assistance in White Harbour do let me know. I've been quite eager to kill the traitors that hurt my brother, and your banner men all appear to be turning their cloaks"

"There will be no difficulties I can assure you" said lord Manderly, bobbing his head up and down

Arya brushed her thumb over the hilt of needle "I hope not my lord"

* * *

Sansa brushed her hair without conscious thought, her mind still reeling from yet another betrayal. In truth she knew relatively little about house Locke - only that the heir to that house had been Ser Donnell Locke and he was killed at the red wedding. The head of the house had been lord Ondrew Locke, but the old man had died not long before the long night. Arron Locke had taken control of the house but Sansa knew very little of him, or his relationship to the main branch of the house. Tyrion had written to him before but the replies he received were always short and vague.

Why hadn't she taken more of an interest? Sansa had placed too much importance on the major houses; naively believing the smaller houses would cause her no issues. Now Robin had gained the support of a Northern house, would more follow?

_'What we don't know is usually what gets us killed'_ advised Littlefinger

How could she know who was loyal to her? Robin and Gawan had been charming to her face - and then brutalised her husband. Lord Locke had kept to himself, but given no indication he was a turncloak.

Sansa's brushing was halted as a hand closed around hers, followed by Tyrion's deep voice "Your hair looks wonderful wife, not a strand out of place"

A faint blush rose in Sansa's face as she realised she'd been mindlessly brushing the same section of hair for several minutes "I'll take your word for it my love"

"As you should, I happen to be an excellent judge of such things"

She turned her gaze to Tyrion, some of her worries easing as she met his warm green eyes. Placing her brush on the table she cupped his face, letting her fingers fiddle with his hair.

"You were wonderful today" she told him "I didn't know how to handle things in the courtyard. I never expected Alec to run into trouble, or for lord Manderly and lord Glover to be here when he returned"

"None of us expected it" said Tyrion "and I'm quite happy to have been some help"

"Robin has a ship Tyrion" said Sansa, her voice shaking "When I spoke with Grey Worm he said Robin and Gawan had been making a deal across the Narrow Sea…we thought they might be hiring sellswords…what if he has…"

"You worry too much dear wife. Robin isn't as clever as he thinks he is. I understand the betrayal of house Locke is an unexpected problem but it is only one house - there's no reason to suspect any other houses will follow, nor do they have reason to. You're an excellent Queen, but you're far too hard on yourself"

She swallowed thickly "Men died because I sent them to retake Widows Watch in my name"

"Those men died because a Northern house turned on them" said Tyrion, covering her hands with his own

"I sent them to their deaths"

"You didn't know that would happen; nobody could have known" said Tyrion

"I never wanted any of them to die for me"

"Your brother Robb sent two thousand of his men to their deaths at the battle on Green Fork; while taking the larger part of his army to defeat my brother at Whispering Wood" said Tyrion "Tactically it was an excellent decision, but I've no doubt he lamented it. The burden of ruling is a cruel one - you can plan things to the last detail and something unexpected will come along and make a mockery of it"

Part of Sansa wanted to latch onto the comfort Tyrion was offering, but her fears and regrets were difficult to ignore.

"Are you sure you don't want to seek help from lord Glover and lord Manderly? They may be difficult to work with but I don't believe they would betray you either. I know we told them Robin was hardly a concern beyond capturing him but if you're worried about sellswords and his attempt to build a rebellion, involving house Glover and house Manderly could make things easier. It would show the North is united against Robin and those who stand with him"

Sansa's resolve shuddered under Tyrion's logic, but didn't break. What Tyrion said was true - the support of all the major houses would strengthen her position and weaken Robin's, but Sansa couldn't trust them. Lord Manderly was everybody's friend and nobody's, while lord Glover was clearly struggling with what his son had done and wanted nothing more than to hide in Deepwood Motte. House Dormund was too close to house Glover to trust, and Sansa barely knew lady Dustin of Barrowton. She could rely on houses Tallhart, Cerwyn, Mazin and Hornwood without question. Whatever Robin was planning, they would have to be enough. The risk of the other houses turning their cloaks to Robin was simply too great to ignore.

"I'm sure" she said, shaking her head "I think it's better we don't involve them"

Tyrion nodded "As you say my Queen. Now tell me – why is the lion flying over Widows Watch?"

"Because I told Alec to make sure both of our sigils were raised when the castle was taken"

"Why?" he asked, furrowing his brow

"You're my husband and the lord of Winterfell" she said, pride filling her voice "After everything Robin did to you it's only right your sigil flies over his family home. They treated you as if you were worthless and I won't let it stand – you mean more to me than anything"

Tyrion's eyes brightened at her words, a smile taking over his face "Thank you"

"I just wish we could find Robin and end this" she said "it's taken so long to get any justice for you and the women who were kidnapped"

"There's nothing more we could have done" he said "its possible Gawan's death will draw Robin out of hiding, or rattle him into making a mistake"

"Possibly. We'll see what answers Gawan has for us tomorrow" said Sansa "Arya's rather excited to interrogate him"

"Are you sure you need to do this? I can be there if you want" he offered - though the way his fingers were fiddling with hers showed his nerves at the idea

"Arya and I will handle Gawan" she promised "I don't want you to worry about it"

"I don't want you to worry either. You may be Queen but you're not alone – Arya and I are here to help you"

"I appreciate that more than you could ever know my love" she said "I'm sorry I've been so distracted this afternoon"

The corners of Tyrion's mouth turned upwards "You have been distracted all afternoon, and it's unacceptable"

"Oh, really?"

Tyrion nodded "Absolutely. As your husband it's my duty to fix this"

A hint of a smile crossed Sansa's face "And how do you plan to do that?"

"I shall distract you from distraction" he said, running his fingers up and down her arm in a way that sent a thrill through Sansa. Tyrion leaned forwards, pressing a kiss to her mouth that was over far too quickly

"Your face is rather distracting" she agreed, brushing her thumb over his cheek

Tyrion's smile widened as he took hold of her wrists "Shall we move to the bed wife? You can tell me all about how distracting my face is"

A giggle escaped Sansa as she let Tyrion lead her over to the bed, and they settled on top of the blankets. He was right - she may well be worrying for nothing. One way or another they would get answers from Gawan and it was entirely possible they would capture Robin before his rebellion could gain any more momentum. The Queenly voice in her head told her to not get distracted - to rebuild her walls and protect herself. Yet the soft smile on Tyrion's face as he leaned over her in the bed drowned out everything else.

His hand caressed her cheek as he trailed kisses down the side of her face and neck.

"Am I distracting you?" he breathed in her ear

Sansa hummed in consideration as Tyrion continued his affections, stoking a fire deep inside her. She brushed her hands through his hair, drawing him closer.

"You are" she admitted "but I think you can do better"

Tyrion paused, propping himself up to grin at her "How so?"

She leaned forwards, kissing his cheek "You can take off your clothes"

* * *

Tyrion eyed the grey horse warily as the stable boys readied the creature to go riding. Distracting Sansa last night had proven exhausting, and Tyrion had been sound asleep when his wife woke him this morning. Fortunately the Sansa that had kissed him awake wasn't the one who retreated behind her shield last night. As soon as Sansa had seen the courtyard and the state of the men she'd withdrawn; spiralling down a tunnel of doubt and blame.

"It's a beautiful horse" said Alec, admiring the grey stallion next to him

"Let's hope it accepts its rider"

"He seems quite relaxed" said Alec, patting the horse "wasn't scared by Lyon either"

Tyrion glanced to the golden wolf stood in front of the horse. Before they went riding Tyrion thought an introduction to Lyon was in order and he'd instructed his friend to be on his best behaviour. Nevertheless Lyon had stared at the horse for a moment before letting loose his puppy bark. The horse had barely lifted his head at the direwolf and Lyon had sat with his head cocked to one side ever since – as if he couldn't understand why this much larger creature wasn't cowering in terror of him.

"It's been a long time since I've been riding" said Tyrion "at least without sharing a horse"

"You didn't enjoy our journey North?"

"Who wouldn't enjoy weeks of traveling in chains, while being passed between horses like a child?"

Alec snorted "Fair point"

Tyrion turned his attention to his friend. Compared to yesterday Alec looked much fresher, though there was still a heaviness in his face. Of the ninety men Alec had taken with him, only twenty made it out of the battle by the Broken Branch. Winterfell lost fifteen men, with the other houses losing trusted guards as well. The remaining Cerwyn and Tallhart men had returned to Winterfell with Alec, and Sansa had offered them the hospitality of the castle until they were well enough to return to their own homes.

"How's your shoulder?" asked Tyrion

"Better" said Alec "Maester Wolkan fixed it up. Back to normal in no time"

"How's Lyle? I didn't get much chance to see him yesterday"

"It was a bad injury" admitted Alec "the sword cut through his side, but missed anything vital. If lord Mazin hadn't turned up when he did we'd have all been dead"

Tyrion nodded, guilt winding through him – it wasn't just Sansa who regretted the injuries the men had suffered. No matter how hard he tried Tyrion couldn't ignore the fact this had all started with the Wolfswood. If not for old lord Mazin sending his son and reinforcements to Alec's aid, Tyrion would have lost two good friends, and many more decent Northerners would have died.

"The Locke men hadn't expected Karlon Mazin to arrive with reinforcements" continued Alec "Some of them fled I'm sorry to say, but we were in no position to follow. I can't help but feel I let the Queen down"

Tyrion shook his head "Certainly not. The priority will always be protecting our men, and there was no indication house Locke would turn against us"

"The young lord Mazin saw us back to Ramsgate and sent out scouting parties to see if they could find any more but they'd long gone"

"A ship you think?"

"Aye, the old lord Mazin had heard reports of an unknown ship lurking around the coast and grew suspicious. He doesn't know Arron Locke very well either, but told me the Lockes were close to the Flints in the past"

"Whatever the case, Sansa hopes to get answers from Gawan tonight"

Knowing what had happened yesterday and what would happen tonight made the idea of going for a ride seem ridiculous, but it was Sansa's idea. When he'd eventually woken to Sansa's repeated kisses around his face she'd told him in no uncertain terms their plans for the day.

"As soon as lord Glover and lord Manderly are gone we're going riding" she'd told him

"Is now the best time?" he'd asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes

"I told you we'd go riding when you were better, and Winterfell has been so busy the last few weeks. I'd quite like to have you to myself for a while"

That was all it took to convince Tyrion. Despite what she'd said, it was quite obvious to him she was seeking an escape from her crown for a few hours and Tyrion was happy to oblige. When Alec brought the news yesterday afternoon Sansa had withdrawn so suddenly it terrified him. Sansa protected herself by withdrawing and he always worried she'd go to a place he couldn't reach her. It had taken a little coaxing but she'd let him distract her last night and if going for a ride took her mind off her troubles he would ride all day and night with her.

"I'll meet you by the gates at dinner time, if that's ok?" asked Alec

Tyrion shuffled on the spot, glancing down at the floor "I know Sansa put you up to this but there's truly no need. You've been away from your wife for over a week and you're injured – the last thing you need is a guest"

The captain of the guards smiled easily, grasping his shoulder "I've invited you to dinner before if I remember right"

"Yes, but I'd more than understand if you wanted some peace. Gods know you've earned a break"

"And I'm taking a break" he said "I'll be at home with my wife, and my friend is coming over for dinner"

"Alec..."

"The Queen didn't force me Tyrion. If you must know she asked if I had any ideas how to get you out of the castle for a while and I suggested having you over for dinner"

"I'm not a child" he grumbled "I hardly need a minder because Sansa will be gone for a few hours"

Alec laughed "Don't be like that – she was worried you'd sit in your chambers, hating yourself all night for not being there when the piece of shit dies"

As much as he wanted to deny it what Alec said was true. He would have likely spent the evening torn between self-hatred and worry for Sansa and Arya. At least Alec had made him feel slightly better about intruding on his evening. When Sansa told him about that part of her plan he hadn't been particularly thrilled.

"You're getting rid of me?" he'd asked

"Of course not. I just thought you'd like a break – we've had weeks of formal dinners after all, and I thought Alec might appreciate your company. A lot of the men he set out with died; a friendly ear could be good for him"

Despite his initial irritation at being evicted for the evening Tyrion couldn't be angry with Sansa; not when he knew her actions were motivated by love for him. The concept was still rather new to him. All his life any show of concern towards him was nearly always motivated by something else; the only exceptions had been Jamie and Podrick. Having a wife whose only motivation was genuine care for him was still a learning curve – he was too used to being the last concern rather than the first.

"Ready sweetheart?" came Sansa's voice as she rounded the corner into the stables. A faint blush coloured her cheeks as she realised Tyrion wasn't alone "Hello Alec"

The man smiled, inclining his head "Your Grace, I was just leaving"

"How are your injuries?" she asked

"Quite well, thank you. The Maester assures me there's no long term damage"

"That's good to hear"

"I'll leave you in peace, your Grace – safe travels"

"Thank you" said Sansa, stepping aside to let him out of the stables

Alec patted Tyrion's shoulder before moving off "I'll see you tonight then, my wife's quite excited"

"She hasn't met a dwarf before?" snorted Tyrion

"It's Lyon she wants to meet!" called Alec, flashing him a grin as he left

With the Winterfell captain gone Tyrion turned his full attention to Sansa, his throat tightening as he drank in the sight. The Queen wore a long grey gown, covered by a dark grey cloak with thick fur around the top. Dark gloves covered her hands, while her fiery hair hung freely around her face and the necklace he'd given her sat proudly around her neck. Tyrion was certain if someone was asked to describe what a Queen looked like they would describe Sansa; powerful, regal and breath-taking.

"You look stunning Sansa" he said

Her face lit up at his compliment "Thank you my love – you look rather dashing yourself"

Tyrion nodded his appreciation, but he knew how odd a man like him looked beside a woman like Sansa. When their marriage was announced surely many Northerners thought Sansa had lost her mind.

He pushed the thoughts away as Sansa came to his side. It didn't matter what anyone else thought; Sansa had chosen him – that had to count for something.

"Is your horse ready?" she asked

"I think so. Lyon's intimidation tactics have failed"

"Is that why he's moping?"

"Probably" said Tyrion "He barked and the horse barely lifted his head"

Sansa turned her attention to the wolf still sat opposite the horse "I think your bark's very impressive Lyon. Anyone would be terrified"

Lyon lifted his nose as if Sansa's compliment was an even greater insult.

"He still doesn't like me" sighed Sana

"Of course he does" said Tyrion "he's just being playful. If he didn't like you he'd ignore you completely"

"I think its jealousy"

"Oh?"

Sansa wound her hand into the back of Tyrion's hair, sweeping down to kiss him.

"He doesn't like to share, and you're all mine" she said, pulling back "Wolves can be possessive you know. We both want the same lion"

"For different reasons I hope. As much as I love Lyon, there are certain things he's unsuited for"

Sansa ran her finger down his cheek, toying with a strand of hair "What things would those be?"

"Have you forgotten last night already?" he teased

"I might well need a reminder. If I recall I was very distracted"

* * *

Arya sank back in her chair, reading through the letter she'd written to Jon one more time.

_Jon,_

_I suppose you're enjoying life beyond the wall since you haven't replied to any of our letters, and Bran assures us you're still alive._

_What would you say if I told you Bran warged into an innocent man and used him to free Grey Worm? I didn't think I'd ever come close to killing one of our family but Bran pushed me to the limit. Sansa wasn't happy either but for the sake of 'unity' between our kingdoms Bran got away without punishment. Tyrion thinks there must be a good reason for Bran to do something like that and I don't know what to think. He acts like he's not Bran Stark anymore, but part of him is. I don't want to lose another brother._

_We've got one of the bastards that hurt Tyrion, but house Locke have joined Robin Flint. I'm going to enjoy killing them all when the time comes._

_Not much news to report other than that. Exploring what's west of Westeros is still my aim, but it'll have to wait until the North's stable. Bran's no help and you're beyond the wall - someone has to look after Sansa and Tyrion. They're both fine, but this situation is straining both of them in different ways._

_Look after yourself big brother._

_Arya_

Not her most cheerful work but there was hardly good news to share with Jon either. The satisfaction of being able to kill Gawan had been overshadowed by the betrayal of house Locke and the loss of so many men. Bran's betrayal was impossible to forget either. No matter how Arya looked at it she could see no reason for her brother to free Grey Worm - rather than help them he'd released another enemy.

She sighed, going through the motions of sealing the letter. At least lord Glover and lord Manderly had gone. Sansa had insisted they see them off this morning but it was hardly a fond farewell. Lord Manderly had looked put out he was being dismissed and lord Glover had been desperate to leave. Sansa had asked the old lord if he wanted Gawan's bones when he was dead, and the man had paled considerably at the question.

"No" he'd answered, his voice heavy "I have no son"

It was better the lords were gone - it would make Gawan's death much simpler. Sansa had made it clear to her they would respect Tyrion's wishes with regards to Gawan. If Tyrion wanted it to be public, or swing the sword himself they would support him completely.

A smile spread across Arya's face as she placed the letter to one side of her desk, and reached for her knives piled ready for sharpening.

Tyrion would never know, but they'd both hoped he wouldn't want to be there. Their goal tonight would be two-fold; to get as much information from Gawan as possible, and make him suffer for every injury, insult and indignity he inflicted on Tyrion. For once both she and Sansa were in full agreement.

After yesterday Sansa had wisely decided she needed a break. Watching her freeze in the face of Alec's return and the news he brought hadn't been pleasant, but it was a sign how much her sister had grown that she recognised her behaviour. Sansa couldn't retreat behind her icy façade when faced with a challenge - it blinded her to so many things and hurt all those around her. Fortunately she'd corrected herself. There was nothing to be done until they interrogated Gawan and going for a ride with Tyrion would give them both a break. From what her sister had said earlier Tyrion had been rather put out at being sent to dinner with Alec tonight, but Arya knew it was for the best.

There was no telling how long they'd be with Gawan, and if Tyrion was left alone he would undoubtedly spend the evening worrying over them and hating himself for not being there. The last thing they wanted was Tyrion wandering into the dungeons looking for them.

Arya lifted the nearest knife, twisting it in her hand. She disliked keeping her brother in the dark, but it was better he didn't know the full details of tonight. Gawan would die, and they'd tell Tyrion all the details they learned from him. Sending him out of the castle for a few hours was only to protect him. Sansa would no doubt spend the day smothering him with affection to soothe any insecurity he felt, and Arya would do something with him tomorrow.

It had been far too long since Arya had a chance to use her skills, and if anyone deserved a painful death it was Gawan Glover.

* * *

"The North has a surprising beauty" said Tyrion

Sansa nodded her head in agreement "I couldn't wait to leave the North and see the rest of the Westeros. I thought Kings Landing would be this beautiful place, but in hindsight it was horrible – even before I saw what Joffrey was"

"Too many people crowded into too little space, and the whole place smelling of shit"

Sansa giggled, glancing across at her husband. Tyrion was dressed in a dark navy tunic; a grey cloak with fur trim hung around him. A smile covered his face as their horses moved forwards, with Lyon trotting along beside them. They'd been riding for about an hour, and to Tyrion's relief it was the opposite direction to the Wolfswood. To the east of Winterfell there was a small woods located near part of the White Knife river. While the river ran from White Harbour a few streams had developed from the main source and it was here Sansa wanted to take Tyrion. Ten guards had accompanied them for protection, but Sansa had instructed them to leave some distance. She didn't want to be the Queen in the North today; she wanted to be Sansa Stark – a young woman enjoying a ride with her husband.

"How's your horse?" she asked

"Wonderful" he said, patting the grey horse "Thank you Sansa"

She smiled, pleased to see him enjoying his name day gift "Not much further to go"

"We can go as far as you want my dear" he said "I'm perfectly fine"

To Sansa's joy that appeared to be true. The saddle Tyrion had designed apparently made riding easier for him and he hadn't struggled at all so far. Nevertheless she didn't want to push him. This was the furthest he'd been since the Wolfswood, and despite the improvements in his health she knew he still tired easily.

"You ride very well" said Tyrion, watching her snowy white horse trot forwards

"You sound surprised"

"I never imagined you would like riding" he admitted

She raised an eyebrow "You think I spent my whole childhood doing needlework?"

"That's what my source told me"

"Would your source happen to be Arya?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that"

Sansa laughed "You need a less biased source love. Yes, I have always loved needlework but riding was enjoyable too. I could get out of the castle for a while and I felt like a Queen going around on a horse"

"And now you are a Queen riding around on a horse" he teased "dreams can come true"

They continued forwards, with Sansa taking the lead. The trees weren't particularly dense in this area but there was enough to give them some privacy. She took her time leading them through the woods in case Tyrion struggled with his horse, but much to her surprise he easily kept up.

"Are you examining every tree wife?" he called from behind her

"You've not seen much of the North" she called back "I don't want to lose you"

"Ah, can you imagine the ravens you'd send? Lord of Winterfell – lost after stepping foot outside castle"

She rolled her eyes, urging her horse into a trot "If I'm going too slow for you..."

Her horse was eager to stretch its legs as it rumbled to life beneath her with the cool Northern breeze whipping her hair back as she increased the pace. A thundering of hooves behind her indicated Tyrion had accepted the challenge and the guards were keeping up somewhere further back. The trees and bushes rushed past as she charged forwards, a lightness filling her chest that drowned out the fear – if only for a little while. The path opened up in front of her as flicks of snow covered her gown and cloak. Sansa didn't care; she was free. There was no crown, no threats or duty out here.

The bray of a horse to her right caught her attention, as Tyrion's horse caught up to hers. He grinned at her, his hair blowing wildly around him as they drew level – Sansa thought he'd never looked as handsome as he did then. Mischief shone in his bright green eyes, and the carefree laugh that fell from him warmed every inch of her.

"Trying to escape me?" he laughed

"Never"

* * *

The sun was just beginning to make it's descent in the distance, signalling it would soon be time to return to Winterfell. Tyrion wound his arm tighter around Sansa, not quite ready for the day to end. Sansa had taken him to a secluded spot near a stream; hidden by the hills and valleys that made up the Northern landscape – it had been nothing short of perfect.

A thrill went through Tyrion recalling their race through the woods. Sansa had been so full of life – warm, and bright with an innocence that had long been stolen from her. They'd jostled for position with Sansa's horse beating his own by mere feet. The day had only gotten better from there. The guards had remained out of sight as they settled onto blankets by the stream, where Tyrion had managed to build a fire much to Sansa's surprise. They'd brought food from the kitchens with them, and wasted the afternoon away talking and enjoying each other. He'd taught Sansa how to skip stones on the stream, and in return she'd shared the secret art of building a castle from the sludgy snow – their model of Winterfell sat off to one side with Lyon studying it in confusion.

They'd lain onto the blankets again not so long ago, with Sansa resting her head on his shoulder as he ran his hand through her soft hair.

"What does that one look like?" asked Sansa, indicating the cloud currently passing over head

"I'd say it most closely resembles a cat" he said "after it fell from a window"

Sansa swatted him "You're such a cynic"

"Guilty as charged" he said "What would you say it looks like?"

She turned her blue eyes to the sky, a soft smile on her face "It could be a lion"

"A lion with a squashed face?"

"That's its hair" she said, before pointing to the other end "and there's a tail"

Tyrion squinted, trying to see what his wife did "Have you ever seen a lion before?"

"I'm looking at one right now" she said, kissing his cheek

"I do hope my face is less squashed than the cloud lion, though our tails look accurate"

A soft laugh fell from Sansa "You're terrible"

"You're not denying it"

"You're my perfect lion" she told him, kissing her way down the side of his face "and I won't hear any other opinions"

Warmth ignited in Tyrion at the conviction in her voice and he pulled her tightly against him "I love you"

"I love you too" she said, snuggling into him "We'll have to head back soon"

"Do we have to?" he groaned

"I think people might miss us if we disappeared"

"We could become free folk" he suggested "I'd happily be your spear husband"

Sansa snorted "Wouldn't I be your spear wife?"

"You're much fiercer than me" he said "I would happily cede to your leadership"

"Think of the people" said Sansa, rubbing her hand down her side "If we disappear, who'll be in charge?"

A shudder ran through Tyrion "Gods, you may be right. Can you imagine what Arya would be like as Queen?"

"I try not to. I imagine there would be a lot of bodies involved – if she stuck around long enough to accept the crown"

"She'd probably hunt us down" said Tyrion "Drag us from our hut beyond the wall and back to Winterfell"

"Probably" said Sansa

Tyrion turned to Sansa, pressing a kiss to her forehead "We have to go back, don't we?"

She nodded but made no effort to move "I have plans with Arya and you have a dinner to go to"

"I'd rather not" he said "What if you need me?"

"I'll always need you Tyrion, and tonight I need you to do this for me"

"You could come with me. Arya's quite capable of slitting the bastard's throat – a large number of the guards would do it in a heartbeat"

Sansa shook her head, gently untangling herself from his grip until she was sat over him "You know I can't do that. I need answers from Gawan, and I will be there to hear them. This is our only chance, and if I'm going to focus I need to know you're ok"

"I'll be fine in our chambers with Lyon"

She bent over him, kissing his forehead "Please Tyrion. I know how much Gawan bothers you – for my peace of mind enjoy a night with your friend and forget about him"

Sansa's blue eyes bore into him, silently pleading with him to agree. It was his own fault for not being strong enough to kill Gawan himself. Sansa and Arya shouldn't be cleaning up his mess.

_'There are no lone wolves'_

Arya's words came back to him, and Tyrion found himself nodding his agreement to Sansa. He was part of their pack – if this is what they needed him to do then he'd do it. The prospect of seeing Gawan's grinning face again made him nauseous; there was no point denying it. Just like in the crypts during the long night, Tyrion was forced to accept there was nothing he could do.

"Thank you" breathed Sansa, brushing her mouth against his for a sweet moment "There's nothing at all for you to worry about, and I'll be in our chambers when you get back"

"Is that a promise?" he asked, already missing her warmth against him as he sat up too

Her eyes twinkled with mischief "It is. I do believe it's my turn to distract you tonight"

"I rather like distracting you"

"You can't have all the fun love" she said "your distraction techniques have given me several ideas to try"

Heat raced through Tyrion at her words, setting every nerve on fire "That sounds intriguing"

Sansa smiled widely "It will be"

* * *

Arya didn't bother lifting her head when the door creaked open "You're late"

"Did you have other plans?"

Her mouth twitched upwards as she lifted Needle for her sister to inspect "I've been ready all day"

Sansa folded her hands in front of her, lifting an eyebrow at the sword "Good"

"Did you enjoy riding Tyrion?"

A blush crept across Sansa's face "Excuse me?"

Arya grinned wickedly at her older sister "You heard me"

"We had a lovely day. The only reason we came back at all was so the North didn't have to suffer you ruling it"

"I wouldn't rule it" snorted Arya

"You're my heir" taunted Sansa "If I die you'll be Queen"

"I'd suggest you choose someone else, or ride your husband more often"

"If we get this on with this perhaps I will"

Arya smirked, pushing up from the chair to join her sister by the door. Embarrassing Sansa about her bedroom activity was getting more difficult, but Arya saw it as a good sign. After everything she suffered at Ramsay's hands Sansa's idea of intimacy was badly damaged. Little by little Sansa was gaining confidence in that area and Arya didn't doubt it was because of Tyrion. Her sister had admitted to her before Daenerys came to Winterfell that she hated the idea of being bedded again. Arya didn't need the details of what Sansa and Tyrion did to know it was good for her sister – that wasn't to say she wouldn't mock them about it.

"Come on then" said Arya "let's have some fun with Gawan Glover"

Sansa's eyes hardened "It's time that justice is done"

* * *

Tyrion smiled watching Alec help his wife clear the plates. He'd gone to help them, but they'd both insisted he was a guest and therefore wasn't to lift a finger. Alec's wife was a petite woman with long brown hair and a warm smile. Her name was Alise and upon meeting him she'd thanked him for saving her in the crypts.

"You and Queen Sansa saved so many of us m'lord" she'd said "the children were crying and we all thought we would die – but you and the Queen didn't hesitate to defend us"

In truth Tyrion didn't remember the woman. The crypt had been full of women and children, and to his shame he'd spent most of the long night drinking too much wine and complaining he shouldn't have been down there. Nevertheless Tyrion had assured her the gratitude was unnecessary and implored her to call him Tyrion.

Dinner had been lovely and Alise had been every bit as welcoming as her husband, with conversation flowing easily between them. Alec's home was marginally better kept than others in the village, but still rather cramped. The long ride today had quite exhausted Lyon and Alise had quickly taken to fussing over the little wolf. Lyon was currently lying on a spare pillow in front of the fire, with a bowl of water and a plate of scraps set before him.

"You realise he'll be scratching at your door every time we come to the village now" said Tyrion, as Alec and Alise joined him on the mismatched chairs around the hearth

"He's more than welcome" said Alise "such a sweet little thing"

Alec wrapped his arm around her, a smile covering his face "Tyrion says it'll be Lyon, but he means himself really"

"Quite true" he agreed "dinner was wonderful, thank you both very much"

"It's no bother" said Alise "it's lovely to meet you – Alec's told me a lot about you"

"And you" said Tyrion "I don't understand why it took him so long to introduce us"

Alec snorted "Getting you away from the Queen is impossible"

"I can't help being in demand"

The hearth crackled warmly as they shared stories, but Tyrion's mind couldn't help but drift to Sansa and Arya in Winterfell. This was what Sansa needed him to do, and deep down he knew she was right - though it did little to ease his guilt. He had to get stronger, no matter what.

He was part of the Stark pack and had no intention of being the weak link.

* * *

Gawan tugged his arms downwards but the chains refused to budge. When lunch had come to his cell he'd eaten it without a second thought. It was only when an unnatural tiredness overtook him soon after he realised it had been laced with some kind of potion. Rather than the cell he'd spent nearly a week in Gawan had awoken to find himself in near darkness – in a different dungeon than the one he'd been kept in. His arms were chained above his head, pulling him upwards until he was practically on his toes, while chains around his ankles kept his legs spread apart and allowed him no movement in any direction. A single torch burned in the cold dungeon, illuminating a space that appeared to have been abandoned years ago. Everything about it was old fashioned, including the stall like cells that lined each side. He was strung up like a piece of meat in the corner rather than in one of the rooms and Gawan hadn't seen anyone since he awoke.

He clenched his teeth, tugging again at his hands.

This was the damned dwarf's fault. The creature had tricked him into making mistakes and his father had been there to hear it all. It was just a waiting game – his father was angry, but he wouldn't abandon him. Robin had surely heard by now too; there would be men coming for him. This was just scare tactics. Sansa wouldn't kill him and risk offending his father for the sake of her pet lion.

Gawan's shoulders ached as he hung in the darkness. Even his face was still sore. The imp had managed to break his nose before he got the upper hand. A sour taste filled his mouth at the memory - his father had been hiding behind his cell with the others. They'd all seen the little runt hit him; it was humiliating. The imp wasn't as weak as he remembered but it hardly mattered - when he was free he'd teach his pet some manners.

After what seemed like hours a light flickered to life in the corner of dungeon, followed by another. Arya Stark entered first, followed by the Queen.

"Queen Sansa, lady Arya" he called, inclining his head "I think there's been a misunderstanding"

Sansa stopped a few feet away; her face could have been carved from stone as she looked at him. Arya paid him no attention – lighting a few more torches around the corner of the dungeon and starting a fire in the corner. He tried to follow her movement, but his position gave him no room to turn.

Instead he focused on Sansa "Your Grace, if you'd let me explain I'm sure you'd understand the situation"

"Understand what?" she asked "That you're a monster. That you and Robin Flint plotted against me and tortured my husband"

"That's not true" he said, shaking his shaggy head "the dwarf's lying to you"

"No, he isn't" she said, her voice sending a chill through the dungeon "You're going to die tonight Gawan, but first you're going to answer all of my questions"

"I already told you everything that happened your Grace - I was never near the Wolfswood"

"You're a poor liar. I was blind to it before, but I know exactly what you are now"

_'You have no idea_' he thought, struggling to hide his anger. He hated playing the role of Gawan Glover, heir to Deepwood Motte. It had its uses but it got in the way of everything else; the things he really enjoyed.

"Your father's disowned you and gone back to Deepwood Motte" she continued "There is no-one coming to rescue you, and one way or another you will tell us everything we want to know"

Gawan's mind fought with itself. Was it true what she said, or was it another trick? Arya had moved back to join her sister, her grey eyes studying him like an animal for slaughter. Looking between them Gawan decided to give up the pretense. They'd seen what happened with the imp and judged him guilty. The time for games was over.

A smirk spread across his face as he eyed them "Where's lord Tyrion?"

Sansa's eyes narrowed at his words. She stepped forward, lifting a piece of iron with a curved end for him to see "This is yours. Don't bother denying it – I can see the excitement in your eyes. It's the same look you had when you branded Tyrion with it"

Somewhere in the distance Gawan's mind registered the strange words, but he was passed the point of caring. Excitement rushed through him that he could finally take credit for his work. Playing the part of dutiful son had been so painful; particularly denying what he'd done. Seeing his pet looking like a little lord again had been the tipping point.

"The mark suits him doesn't it?" said Gawan, his mouth curling upwards "I designed it myself"

The Queen ignored him, tracing her fingers over the pattern on the end "I brought this down here to use on you. So you'd suffer as Tyrion did"

A flicker of nerves stirred in Gawan's stomach, but he quickly pushed it aside. This was all talk; the wolves had come down here to intimidate him but it wouldn't work.

"The imp kept begging me not to" taunted Gawan "pathetic little creature"

"I'm not going to use this on you" she decided, setting the hot iron down "You made sure Tyrion would bear that mark forever, and you wanted him to be ashamed of it. That won't happen. I'll make sure he bears it with pride - the price he paid to save innocent women from slavery. You wanted it to be a mark of ownership, but I'll make sure it's his badge of courage instead"

"A piece of shit like this shouldn't have the same mark as my brother" agreed Arya "I have plenty of tools for new ones"

"Good" said Sansa "Where should we start?"

"Your choice, but I'd start easy" said Arya, drawing a knife from her belt "he's only weak and we want this to last as long as possible"

Gawan lurched forwards making his chains rattle "Weak? You'd call me weak after you married the twisted little freak?"

"You are weak" said Sansa, her blue eyes as cold as winter "and when we've finished you'll be nothing"

"You should have seen your dwarf – begging and crying for mercy. He squealed like a pig when I branded him"

"No, he didn't" said Sansa, with an unnatural certainty "but you will"

Gawan grinned, a laugh escaping him "You won't do anything to me. This is all an act - you need my father's support"

"He disowned you and signed the order for your execution" snorted Arya "he doesn't even want your bones back"

"I might let Tyrion's direwolf have a couple of bones" mused Sansa "I think he wanted a piece of you"

His gut twisted unpleasantly at their words. That couldn't be true, could it? Gawan shook his head. What did it matter - he didn't need his father. The man was an old fool. The wolves wouldn't kill him; he was too valuable as a hostage. Robin would send a force to rescue him.

"You're wasting your time" said Gawan, a wild grin covering his face "I know you won't touch me. You're Starks - too honourable to do what needs to be done. That's all you and the old lords care about; duty and honour"

"I think I've heard enough for now" said Sansa, nodding to her sister "begin when you're ready"

Arya moved forwards, lifting her knife to cut away his tunic.

"You won't do it" he said, shaking his head in denial as the cold air brushed against his skin "You're a Stark"

Sansa stepped forwards, her icy blue eyes piercing into him without a trace of warmth.

"I'll always be a Stark" she said "but I'm a Lannister by marriage - and a Lannister always pays their debts"


End file.
